Opposites Distract (3 page)

“Nope, I'm enjoying myself. Just show up on time for supper.” She raised an eyebrow at Brody. “You'll have to pry her fingers off her keyboard.”

“Got it.” He held out Harmony's coat for her, then shrugged into his own. When they stepped outside, the wind hit them, blasting off the lake. It picked up snow and pelted them.

“Damn, it's cold!” Harmony hustled for the SUV. She hopped inside and slammed the door before she remembered Brody's rules. The man didn't get to do door duty this time, but he looked mighty relieved when he slid behind the steering wheel. The warmth of the SUV thawed her on the short drive back. He pulled close to the doors of the resort and started to get out, but she was too quick. She dashed out of the car and into the lobby before he could stop her.

She could get used to having a man deliver her almost to the front door, but she'd better not get too comfortable with it. It wouldn't happen at home. She waited inside the lobby for him. He looked surprised to see her when he stepped into the foyer. “I thought you'd zip up to your room.”

She grimaced. “I might not be traditional, but I have some manners. Thanks for the ride.”

He frowned at her. “Ian told me your favorite color is apricot.”

She blinked. Where the hell had that come from? How did this man keep throwing her off balance? “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“That's so feminine. You're . . .” He hesitated.

She gave his arm a playful punch. “No worries. I get it. I'm not.”

They said their goodnights and went their separate ways. Once in her room, Harmony went to the window to watch white flurries swirl outside. A storm was blowing toward them, intense enough that she couldn't see to the other side of the lake. She closed the blinds and changed into her pajamas. Then she crawled into bed, dragging her laptop with her. She balanced it on the bedspread and finished the rewrites of the chapters she'd been working on, but her thoughts kept drifting to Brody. Had he been hopeful, madly in love when he married his Cecily? And what had she done to him? A reason, Harmony reminded herself, she avoided happily-ever-after. Because it was a crapshoot whether or not it would work.

W
hen Harmony turned on her computer the next morning, there was an e-mail from Tessa.
Coffee cake outside your door
. She looked at the time and grinned. Ian must have brought it over when he came to work with Brody. She'd stayed up later than she meant to last night, but it was worth it. She'd gotten her rewrites done and added to them.

She cracked the door and looked up and down the hall. No one in sight. A good thing. Her hair would make Medusa's—on a bad day—look good. She wore men's pajamas that she could swim in, and her ratty pink robe brought her all sorts of comfort, but wouldn't win any prizes. It matched her ratty, pink slippers.

She grabbed the goodie and retreated back into the room. She'd brought her favorite coffee with her from home, so she started a pot. She was set. Carbs and coffee were her kind of breakfast. She sent back a quick e-mail.
Thanks! You're the best
. She knew, for sure, that Tessa was sitting in front of her computer, still in her PJs and a robe, with coffee and carbs, too. That's why they were such good friends.

When the pot quit gurgling, she poured herself a cup, cut a slice of coffee cake, and settled in front of the keyboard. Her fingers itched to get started. She'd finished the first fourth of the book last night.
Only
one fourth. That left about forty-five thousand words to go, about one hundred ninety-five pages. Ugh. She bit her bottom lip. If she wrote ten new pages a day . . . Oh, hell, she'd have to, or she wouldn't have time to do a final rewrite. Who was she kidding? She should really write fifteen pages a day. The book was due on February twentieth.

Fretting wasn't going to put words on the page. She took a gulp of coffee and looked at her plot notes. Serifina, her protagonist witch, was walking into trouble. She just didn't know it. A new player had come to town, a rogue vampire who kept nasty company. Harmony was writing like a crazy woman when someone knocked on the door.

Buggers! Why now? Luxar, her hero/vampire, (and soon to be love interest) was about to rescue Serifina from the bad guy, whom he'd been keeping an eye on. Things were getting tense. Torrid was ready to leap.

Another knock. She glanced at herself in the mirror. She could scare small children. She sighed, but she'd seen Tessa in the morning. Her hair went crazy, too. Ian should be used to it. She got up and opened the door. It wasn't Ian. Brody stood there, staring down at her.
Oh, shit.

He blinked at her. Okay, he'd been married once. Surely, Cecily had days when she looked like a harridan. Then again, maybe not. The woman sounded like Miss Sterility—always perfectly coifed and made up. She probably woke up with fresh breath. Harmony ran her tongue over her teeth. Gross, she hadn't brushed them yet. Brody took a quick breath, then said, “Just wanted to let you know we had to turn off electricity for a short while to rewire a wall. It won't be long. We didn't think about warning you, but we should have.”

She felt her shoulders sag. The man
did
do everything right. Always did the responsible thing. How hard would that be to live with? No wonder he picked Cecily. She shook her head. “No biggie. I'm not doing any research. I have plenty of battery left. I can still write.”

Brody looked repentant. She liked that expression on him. “I don't have your cell phone number, so I couldn't call you to let you know.”

“No problem. Really. Don't worry about it.” Luxar was calling to her. Her vampire couldn't wait to spring into action. A battle was brewing. She flashed Brody a fake smile.
Go away, nice man!

He frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Great, why?” How bad did she look? Okay, she didn't want to know. It couldn't be good.

Brody studied her. “You seem all pent-up, like something's bothering you.”

She stared. The man read people better than she'd thought. “I'm getting ready to write a fight scene. Two vampires are going to rip and tear at each other. I can't wait.”

Brody took a step back. He thought she was crazy, she knew it. “And that gets you all worked up?”

Harmony tried to explain. “If I'm not all hot and bothered, how can I expect my readers to be?”

He thought about that. “So you live vicariously through your characters.”

She sighed. “When I'm writing about them.” She wasn't some nerd who didn't have a life. Okay, she might be a nerd, but she had friends and went places.

He gave a quick nod. “Okay, then, I'll let you get back to it.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “Almost forgot. Ian said to tell you that the lodge is closed for two weeks until we get the big stuff done in the west wing, but Paula will still fix lunch for us. We won't see Tessa until dinner. That way she can write. You two must share some of the same habits.”

Harmony nodded. “Writers write.”

“Lunch is at twelve thirty,” he said. He glanced at her oversized pajamas and frayed robe. With a small shake of his head, he retreated.

Harmony tried to run a hand through her hair. Tried. It was too tangled. Brody didn't understand that when a scene called to you, you
had
to write it. But why should he? He probably thought she was batty
and
nuts now. Damn.

She was trying to make nice with Tessa's brother-in-law, but she had a suspicion this wasn't going to be a victory. She went back to her writing.

Serifina
thought
she was rushing to help a member of her coven, but it was really a trap. When Torrid leapt from a rooftop and pinned her to a wall, he caught her by surprise. Before she could react, though, Luxar—with his vampire speed—stood behind Torrid and yanked him off her. Then all hell broke loose. Fangs ripped. Claws slashed. Serifina had no idea who was who, or whom to help.

The words flew as fast as the action.

When Torrid finally popped away—damn old vampires who could transport—she was annoyed with herself. When Harmony reread those words, Luxar was beginning to look a lot like Brody—tall, muscled, brooding, and intense. But then again, what vampire wasn't? The kicker was when he looked at Serifina and his eyebrow rose with disapproval. Harmony sighed. Oh, hell . . .

A
n hour later, her cell phone rang. She glanced at it. Brody.

“Just wanted you to know the power's back on.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at her WiFi signal. Yup, there it was. She didn't want to talk. The words were flowing. She repeated, “Thanks for letting me know.”

He hesitated. “You'll remember that lunch is at twelve thirty, right?”

“A given, I'll be hungry by then.”

He didn't sound convinced. “Okay, see you then.” He took his pledge to Tessa of keeping her on track very seriously. What
didn't
he take seriously?

Harmony cut another slice of coffee cake and poured herself the last cup of coffee. Where had she left off? Oh, yeah, after Luxar's nemesis fled, Luxar dragged Serifina to his mansion so that he could protect her. If Torrid wanted her, there must be a reason. Serifina went with him, but didn't intend to stay. She didn't need a babysitter, but she did need answers. She informed him that she was a witch, a powerful one, who could take care of herself.

Luxar remained unconvinced. “Like you were protecting yourself from Torrid?” His smirk looked a lot like Brody's. Harmony blocked that thought. Serifina, however, was intrigued.

“I was chanting a protection spell,” Serifina told him. “I didn't need your help.”

The two started arguing, and Harmony decided to use the scene to feed some background information into the story. Luxar was explaining Torrid's bloody history to Serifina—a history that shocked Harmony with its violence—when someone knocked at the damn door again, interrupting her thoughts.

She came here for quiet! But she struggled to stay civil. “Who is it?” she called.

The door opened and Brody stepped inside. He ran a hand through his black hair when he saw her, clearly frustrated. He pointed at the wall clock. Twelve forty. “Lunch?” he reminded her.

Damn it all to hell! How did that happen?

His tone was patient. “I know you don't like formal, but do you usually eat lunch in your pajamas and bathrobe?”

“Yes, actually.” She blew out a breath in frustration. “Look, just eat lunch without me. I'll drive into town and grab something later.”

“And ruin supper at Tessa's?” Was the man
always
this logical? He glanced at his watch. “Tessa told me to keep you on track.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that why you're staying in the lodge instead of staying at their place?”

Brody avoided the question. He motioned toward the bathroom. “Throw some clothes on and come on down. We'll save you a sandwich.”

She stared at him. “I've lived on my own for a long time now. I can take care of myself. You don't need to babysit me. Go over and stay with your brother and Tessa, and I'll meet you all for suppers each night.”

Brody crossed his arms and planted his feet. He had the look of someone who meant business. It reminded Harmony of the many times she'd been called down to the principal's office. Unyielding authority. Voice soothing, as though talking to a two-year-old, he said, “I'm already settled in. Now move it. I'm not leaving without you.”

She stared. Was he serious? He sure as hell looked like he was. She couldn't move him without a bulldozer. She could throw a fit, but it wasn't really her style. And besides, he was Tessa's brother-in-law, and Tessa loved him. So Harmony sighed, punched the save button on her computer, and stalked into the bathroom. She came out in the same ragged jeans and oversized sweater she'd worn yesterday. He'd hate that, she knew. But he only gave her a quick glance, then hustled her into the hall. They walked down to the dining room together. At least she'd given her face a quick scrub and brushed her teeth.

When he held out a chair for her at the table, she pressed her lips into a tight line. He made her feel small. Not just size-wise. The top of her head stopped at his shoulder. But he had a way of making her feel like a naughty child again. She hated that. When she sat down, he scooted the chair in for her.
Good grief!

Ian and Paula watched with amused expressions. Then Ian looked at her hair yanked back in a rubber band and her face with no makeup, and he burst out laughing.

“That's the last straw!” Harmony was ready to throw her stuff in her bag and drive home.

Ian shook his head. “You look like Tessie when she's hit a sweet spot in her manuscript and the scenes are coming to her.”

Brody stared. “Tessa loses track of time, too?”

“You have a lot to learn, brother.” Ian reached for his napkin. “Once Tessa settles into writing mode, the world could blow away outside her windows, and she'd never notice from nine to five. I think she used to write nonstop until she married me. Now she quits when I come home, and we cook together.”

Brody slanted a sideways look at Harmony. “So that's normal.”

Ian grinned. “As normal as writers get, as far as I know. But I've only lived with one, and she's pretty much worth it.”

Brody frowned, and Harmony could almost see him adding up the pluses and minuses.

Ian said, “If I'm late getting home, Tessa doesn't hassle me. Hell, sometimes she doesn't even realize I'm late.”

“That was one of Cecily's pet peeves.” Brody reached for his sandwich. “She always made plans for the night—meeting someone for dinner or attending some function. Even when she knew I worked long hours in the summer, she had some place she wanted to go, someone we should meet for drinks or dinner.”

Ian winced. “Sounds like Lily.”

Brody gave him a knowing look. “That's why I warned you off her.”

Both brothers went quiet a moment, thinking.

Harmony looked at Paula. She needed a change of subject. “This sandwich is delicious. A Cuban?” There was roasted pork and ham with melted cheese. “Bet it's fun just cooking for the kids at supper while the inn's closed for two weeks.”

“The kids love it. We have the whole evening to ourselves.” Paula touched her hand to a locket. She opened it so that Harmony could see baby pictures of Aiden on one side and Bailey on the other. “I'm so lucky. Our lives have been bumpy, but they've been cool with it.”

Harmony looked around the dining room. “This is a beautiful room.” An oak floor gave it a country feel, but crown molding added more sophistication. Windows lined the back wall, looking out over the rolling lawn and the lake. Cream-colored walls brightened the space. Impressionistic landscapes added soothing color.

Ian beamed. “Tessie helped me decorate the whole place. She made it into what I'd pictured.”

Harmony nodded. “She's good at that. Visited my place once when she came to New York to see her agent. When she left, she'd done all these little things that made the apartment look better.”

“You don't have the touch?” Brody asked.

She shook her head. “No talent at all. I can look at colors and fabrics, but I can't picture how any of them would go together.”

“That's me,” Ian said. “Brody's good at it, though.”

“I have to be,” Brody said. “If I build a house for someone and they know how they want it to feel, I need to make sure things come together.”

Harmony disagreed. “I think you either have the gift or you don't. You must have it.” And once again, she was lacking in something Brody excelled at. Surprise, surprise! It was like the Universe made him just to annoy her.

She expected to see a superior smirk on his face, but Brody's attention was drawn to something outside the back windows. His brows furrowed in a worried frown. He narrowed his eyes, staring at the lake. “Is that one of your ducks?” he asked Ian.

Ian finished the last bite of his sandwich and followed Brody's gaze. His expression took on a worried look, too. “Is she stuck in the ice?”

Brody stood to go see her better. “She's struggling, but can't get out.”

A feather could have knocked Harmony over when Brody disappeared to get his winter coat. Ian followed him. She looked at Paula. “Are they going to rescue a duck?”

“Not just any duck,” Paula told her. “Ian fed it all summer and fall.”

Brody glared as he passed Harmony. “You can't just leave a poor animal trapped in ice to die, whether you fed it or not.”

The two men tramped out the back door and headed to the lake. Harmony turned to Paula. “How do you unstick a duck?”

Paula pursed her lips, thinking. “It can't be that thick there. That's where the channel empties into the lake. The water's usually moving. Could you pour hot water on the ice to make it melt?”

“Let's find out.” Harmony started to the kitchen and Paula hurried after her. They filled two huge soup pots with hot water and put them on the stove to boil.

Harmony glanced out the window to watch the men. “How long do you think the duck's been there? I wonder how she got stuck.”

“It got really cold last night. I bet she was in open water when the sun set and by the time the sun came up this morning, the water had frozen.” She went to get her coat. So did Harmony. They each grabbed a pot and carried them out to the men. By the time they reached them, Brody had a hand auger and was drilling holes around the duck. Ian had an old-fashioned saw and was trying to saw the ice between each hole. He'd made deep enough grooves that when they poured the boiling water on them, they melted a decent amount of ice without harming their feathered friend.

“Can you bring more?” Brody asked.

“We started two more pots,” Harmony said. The women trudged back to the lodge and started a chain of boiling water to bring for the men.

The duck, Harmony was surprised to see, seemed to realize that they were trying to rescue her. They finally cut a circle in the ice and could pick it up and carry it, with the duck trapped in it, into the barn. Horses whinnied when they entered, and one stretched its neck for a treat. Ian went to a bucket with a lid and handed each of them a carrot. They dutifully pampered each horse and rubbed its nose before they returned to the stranded duck. Brody had turned on a heater and placed her close to it. Her ice started melting and soon was thin enough, he slammed his fist on it, and it broke. The duck wobbled, unsteady on its webbed feet. Brody immediately reached for her, held her close so that she wouldn't be frightened, and carried her outside. Then he looked at Ian. “What should I do with her?”

Ian looked up and down the shoreline. Some ducks swam farther down the channel. The water was open there. The men walked her down to them and let her loose. She hurried to her friends.

When they returned, their boots muddy, their coats filthy, they both looked frozen. Harmony shook her head. “It looks like they need hot chocolate.”

Paula led her into the kitchen and they got busy. Soon, they sat around the dining room table again. This time, they each cradled a mug of hot chocolate to warm their hands.

Brody raised an eyebrow at her. “We had a dog when we were little. It was our job to take care of it.”

“How your mom instilled so much responsibility in you, I have no idea.” Harmony's parents preached a lot of virtues, gave lots of lectures, but most of them didn't take. Of course, her parents weren't that responsible themselves, so maybe that made a difference.

Ian looked outside the windows to where they'd rescued the duck. “Lady fell into the weedy side of our pond once and got tangled up. We had a hell of a time pulling her out of there.”

Brody and he locked gazes. “We almost lost her,” Brody said. And the memory still bothered him, Harmony could tell. Maybe she'd judged him wrong. Maybe he wasn't the Authoritarian. Maybe he was Mr. Responsible. For Everyone. No one could describe her that way. She was Miss Disappear.

Brody frowned at her. “I'm thinking you don't get that attached to your pigeons.”

She could feel a blush climb to her cheeks. She shrugged.

He leaned forward, surprised. “You do, don't you?”

She'd never told anyone. Her friends would have a good laugh at her expense. “You know how pigeons are. They bob around the sidewalks, begging for scraps all day. One got scared and flew in front of a car. When the car kept going, I could see him on the street, dragging his left wing and walking funny. I went down and caught him and took him to a vet.”

Paula was staring at her. “A pigeon?”

“He was
my
pigeon,” Harmony clarified.

“And?” Brody prodded.

She grimaced. “The vet said his wing wouldn't get better, his leg was gone. He'd never walk or fly, probably wouldn't last the week. So I paid to have him put to sleep.”

Paula gaped, but Brody gave an approving nod. “Cecily never understood about pets, but nothing should suffer if there's a way to avoid it.”

Oh, boy, Harmony hadn't thought about that pigeon for a long time. The vet had given her the same look Paula had. In the city, pigeon lovers were scarce, but she'd fed that damned bird every day for over a year. He trusted her. She shook her head. Not that many people would understand. She finally looked at the clock. “Oh, lord, I've lost a lot of writing time. Gotta go. I want to get more pages done before the kids come up.” How many had she written this morning? Six. She had nine more to go.

“I could tell them to forget it tonight,” Paula said. “You can put it off another day.”

She was tempted, but shook her head. “No, I promised them. Send them up. I have a few hours, and I know what the next scene is. It's all there. I'll get enough done.” Maybe. Hopefully. Harmony gave a quick wave and started up the stairs. She went straight to her computer, and the words flowed.