Right Brother (16 page)

Darcie cut her a look that Jennifer ignored.

“—she accepted it grudgingly only when she realized it was the same night as Courtney's sleepover.”

“I suspect she thinks being rude to Trent somehow upholds her loyalty to her father. Though it's both parents she's worried about.”

“Me? There's no reason for her to worry about me.”

“Right. No way a kid could ever worry that if her mother falls in love with a guy that the kid might lose her, too. But that's not the most interesting thing. You must be nuts—”

“Definitely nuts,” Jennifer said with an attempt at a laugh.

“About the guy.”

“What?” A surge of panic hit her stomach.

“Yup,” Darcie continued as if she hadn't spoken. “Nuts for Trent Stenner. Otherwise you would have jettisoned him the way you've jettisoned other guys at the first sign of disapproval from Ashley. And she always objects if she senses you could really like a guy. “

Feeling as if the car had become a torture chamber, Jennifer forced herself to reason with her best friend. “Darcie, you're talking nonsense. I told you, this is not a date. Trent made that very clear. It's business.”

“And that night in his car?”

Heat surged through Jennifer along with memories. When would that stop? “I told you, that was a mistake. One we've put behind us.”

“My point still holds, because it has nothing to do with the lies you and Trent might be telling yourselves. For you to go out with Trent—”

“I'm not going out with him. It's not a—”

“—when Ashley disapproves, there's something there for sure.”

“Darcie, I'm telling you this isn't a date. I promise you.”

B
ad move, Stenner.

It wasn't the first time Trent had that thought since Tuesday, when he'd invited Jennifer to come to the benefit. The thought had hit almost as soon as the words left his mouth. But he couldn't undo the invitation. Not after his oh-so-clever extolling of the contacts she could make.

Why had he asked Jennifer to be his companion—not his date, just as he'd assured her—to this benefit in the first place?

He had no problem going out alone. He'd even become fairly adept at sidestepping Tracy's attempts to fix him up when he arrived at an event solo.

He couldn't claim to have invited Jennifer because he thought she'd enjoy it, either. Some women, he supposed, would get a kick out of hobnobbing with the city's elite. But that wasn't Jennifer's style.

Heck, she'd looked downright pained when she'd agreed.
She'd tried to hide it with a smile, but that had made her discomfort even more obvious.

So, maybe he should be asking that question, too— Why had she agreed to come?

If he'd had any brain cells left to work on the problem, he should have been able to solve it. But all his brain cells were devoted to reminding himself that this was not a date.

So it didn't matter what Jennifer looked like standing across the hotel ballroom with chandeliers sparkling stars in her hair.

He'd nearly been burned to ash when she opened her apartment door. Seeing the back of the dress when he put the wrap around her shoulders had finished the burn. With her hair up, the dress's low back highlighted the exposed, perfect line of her neck. The drive from Drago to Chicago had tormented him with the desire to lean over and kiss that length.

And the burn was just as hot each time he saw her now.

Not a date.
Not
a date.

 

Jennifer shook hands with the silver-haired man, smiled and moved away. The books she'd read said closing a conversation was as important a skill as opening one.

She huffed out a breath, and decided she deserved a break.

She'd done darned well, if she said so herself.

Trent had been the perfect companion. He'd stayed by her side at the beginning, introducing her to Tracy and her husband Ben, Trent's former teammate. Tracy, in turn, had introduced them to two other couples. Trent had circulated her through the room for another half hour.

At dinner, he'd made conversation easily with their tablemates, naturally drawing her in, too.

After dinner, he'd asked if she wanted to strike out on her own. When she'd said yes, a flicker of something crossed his eyes before he'd smiled and said, “Go get 'em, killer.”

Twice, just as she'd finished a conversation and drifted away, he'd been between conversations, too, and their paths had crossed long enough to check in with each other, to take a few sips from the drink she'd been carting around, and for him to make her smile.

All in all, it had been a perfect evening.

Except for that moment when she'd opened the evening bag Darcie had loaned her to freshen her lipstick and found a key she recognized as the one to the Barrett house glinting up at her from the satin-lined bottom.

Darcie Barrett did not give up.

Jennifer looked around now, not spotting Trent. But she did see her hostess approaching with a determined smile.

“It's a marvelous party,” Jennifer said, meeting her partway.

“Thank you. Having everyone willing to come and help out is what makes it.” She tilted her head, eyeing Jennifer. “You're remarkably pretty.”

Jennifer felt herself stiffen. “Thank you.”

Tracy laughed a little. “No need to thank me, it wasn't really a compliment. I've been smiling and handing out compliments so much tonight I think my face will crack if I don't take a break to just be plain honest and nosy. That's why I headed for you when I saw you alone. So, definitely don't thank me. I intend to ignore every one of those signals you're emitting that you want me to butt out, and to satisfy my curiosity.”

Jennifer froze. She'd had plenty of people corner her and try to pry into her personal life, but that was in Drago, where she knew the person doing the prying so well that she knew exactly which evasionary tactic would work. She didn't know this woman at all. Except that she was Trent's friend. Why hadn't the books covered this sort of situation?

“The reason I remarked about your being so pretty is it surprised me,” Tracy went on. “Trent doesn't usually date re
markably pretty women. Striking, cute, interesting, attractive, yes, but not pretty. So there must be a lot more to you than being pretty.”

Solid ground came up under Jennifer's flailing feet and she almost heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, we're not dating.”

“No?”

“No,” she replied firmly to Tracy's blatant doubt. “We're business associates. In his family's car dealership.”

For a long moment Tracy stared at her. Then her brown eyes widened so much that Jennifer thought her eyelashes were going to meet her hairline. Her mouth formed a circle before it produced a delayed, “Oh…”

“Trent thought this would be a good opportunity for me to meet people who would be good business contacts.”

Tracy waved off business with the flip of one elegant hand. “Omigod! Why didn't I put that together? I must have been even more crazed about this benefit than I knew. You're the ex-sister-in-law. The one married to that goon of a brother—Evil Eric.”

She immediately gripped Jennifer's forearm. “Sorry—sorry. I shouldn't have called your ex a goon. It's just that we all think they've treated Trent so… Well, we love Trent. He's family.”

For absolutely no reason, Jennifer's eyes stung, sharp with salt, but soft with another ingredient she couldn't identify. Trent did have family. A family that loved him and protected him, the way a family should.

“Oh, God. I really am sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry.”

“No, no, it's okay.” Jennifer found herself smiling at the same time she blinked would-be tears into submission. “You're Linc's sister. I don't know why
I
didn't put
that
together.”

“I am. And he says you've got a good head on your shoulders. Not much experience, but lots of potential—and you have no idea what a compliment that is from my brother.”

“He's been so wonderful to us. In those first few weeks I must have called or e-mailed him a dozen times a day.”

“He loves it. And he thinks the world of Trent. Why, he even had you—”

“There you are.” Trent stepped in between them, sliding one arm around Tracy's waist and shifting her to his other side.

Tracy peered around him, grinning at Jennifer. “You get the feeling he doesn't want us to compare notes?”

“Not at all, not at all,” Trent said. “It's just that we have a long drive back, so we should get started, and I'm sure your other guests would like to have the pleasure of your scintillating company.”

“It's been a pleasure meeting you, Tracy,” Jennifer said. “Thank you for letting me come to this wonderful event.”

“I'm so glad you could come.”

Trent hugged his longtime friend. “I'll talk to you soon, Trace.”

“You bet you will. And—” she grinned at Jennifer “—I'll call
you,
too.”

 

Jennifer leaned her head back and watched out the passenger window, relaxed to a near-dozing state. Nerves over how she would conduct herself at a benefit in downtown Chicago were behind her. Done. Now, carried by the security of Trent's capable driving, she could simply be.

Swooping elevated cloverleaf entrances and exits, like some gigantic carnival ride, divided travelers according to their destinations. Interstate signs for Wisconsin, Michigan, Indiana and Illinois jostled for position.

All the places. All the possibilities. All the roads she hadn't taken.

Should she have left Drago, come here to try to find work? Would that have been better for Ashley?

No answers came from the buildings flashing past. Impressionistic layer cakes of gray and tan, utilitarian concrete boxes, odd curves and arches all stating the human need to express individuality. The boxes wider spaced and the trees more numerous. Although no trees could arch over these six lanes of traffic the way trees did over the streets of Drago.

Now, well outside the city, suburbs spread wide blankets of houses. But the Interstate outlasted them, diving into the farm-dotted space.

The moon glinted on the surfaces of road, cornfields, barns and trees. An occasional clapboard farmhouse appeared in the brighter glow of security lights; harsh lighting for houses that, more often than not, showed hard usage, like proud old ladies trying to disguise wear on aging silk dresses. She understood the pride and the determination.

Trent steered smoothly onto the exit to Drago, then down the highway.

Her heart thudded hard in her chest as they slipped through the night. This was her land. This was where she belonged. She had made the right choice in staying in Drago. The right choice for herself and for Ashley.

Everything would be okay. They'd work out their mother-daughter differences. The dealership would thrive. They'd have financial security. Maybe get a house.

“Are you awake?” Trent asked quietly.

She rolled her head toward him and smiled. “Yes. It's been a wonderful drive.”

She saw only the profile of his smile. “We aim to serve.”

“It's been a wonderful night, too. Thank you for asking me.”

He rolled to a stop at the light on Main Street—its red had a knack for catching solo cars in the dead of night.

He faced her. “Thank you for coming with.”

She knew what he was going to do. She didn't move. Not as he leaned toward her. Not as his mouth touched hers.

It was a brief kiss. Neither hard nor soft. Neither passionate nor “just friends.” Nothing connected except their lips.

And then he straightened, and eased the car forward.

“Trent—”

“Just let it be, Jen. Believe it or not, you can trust me, including about this. So, just let it be.”

So she let it be. Even though it felt as if a solitary key in the bottom of her purse might burn a hole right through it.

 

Jennifer sat on her balcony in the early-morning light, sipping water and listening to her town stir, called first by birdsong, then the less subtle exhortation of church bells.

She felt as if she were standing on the edge of something. The way she used to feel at the swimming hole as a kid. Standing on the dive-rock, poised to slice through the air, then into the cool water, shadowed by surrounding trees. Down into its dark mysteries. Finally, pulling the water to start the ascent, kicking toward the growing light, kicking hard, that last time as she broke the surface, head back, face to the sky.

Somewhere in the distance, a screen door clanked closed, and a woman's voice called for Gary to hurry or they'd be late. A child's voice responded with “Okay, Mom,” sounding totally unhurried.

Jennifer sipped from her glass, her gaze falling on the evening purse she'd brought out with her. Only because she hadn't emptied it last night, so it still held her cell phone.

Along with other things.

She recrossed her legs and tugged the edge of her robe into place.

She wasn't going to dive into anything. Not anything as
familiar as the old swimming hole and definitely not anything as unfamiliar as…well, unfamiliar.

Oh, but it
was
nice when he'd smiled at her. And the way his eyes looked in that second before he'd kissed her…and in the seconds after.

He'd insisted on walking her to the door and waiting while she checked that all was right inside. She'd wondered if he would kiss her then.

He hadn't. He'd taken both her hands in his, looking down at them, then simply said good-night and smiled at her again.

Her cell phone rang. The ordinary sound jolting through Jennifer like an alarm.

It was Jill, Courtney's mother. Calling two hours before the scheduled time to pick up Ashley.

“What's wro—?”

Before she could finish the universal maternal concern, Jill said, “Ashley's fine. I wanted to talk to you before you pick her up, though.”

“I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Let's meet at the café? My husband will stay with the girls. They're all sound asleep now.”

Jennifer was there waiting when Jill slid into the seat opposite her in the back booth with the wan smile of an adult who'd hosted a sleepover.

“Coffee,” she said with deep gratitude when she saw that a steaming cup awaited her. “I've already had two cups and I still feel half-dead.”

Jennifer barely curbed her impatience while the woman took a sip.

“I'm sorry to be mysterious about this, Jennifer, but I wanted to talk to you out of Ashley's hearing. She slipped out of the house last night—well, really this morning. About two.”

“Slipped out,” Jennifer repeated.

“To meet a boy. Nothing happened.” The other woman ran the words together as if they were one. She reached across and put her hand over Jennifer's. “Nothing happened,” she repeated. “As far as Ron and I could tell, nobody was ever even there. I heard the girls sounding more and more excited, but trying to be more quiet than usual—you know what I mean?”

Jennifer nodded numbly.

“It was the quiet that really alerted me—all the shushing each other. I went to the family room, and they were all glued to the windows, trying to see out. A quick head count, and I grabbed Ron out of bed and we went outside. She was out by the street. She said she was waiting for a boy named Jonas. Do you know him?”

Oh, God.
Not just a boy, but a nearly sixteen-year-old boy. “He works part-time at the dealership.”