Some Like It Hot (20 page)

God knew her level gaze looked perfectly composed when it met his. “I’m going to grab myself a glass of wine,” she said and waved a hand at the few pieces of furniture. “Please. Make yourself comfortable.”

Trying not to mourn the formality from a woman who was rarely formal, he dropped down on the couch. He’d no sooner done so than he had to raise his right cheek to fish a folder out from under his butt. He set it atop several similar files stacked on the cushion next to him.

She came back with a goblet of red wine and sat on the coffee table in front of him. It was the last place he expected her to sit, and he spread his knees to keep from touching her in the close quarters. Then he stilled, mentally kicking himself for his own tell.

But if she noticed, it didn’t show. She took a sip of her wine, then lowered the glass, pressing its bowl between her breasts. “When I couldn’t find you earlier,” she said in a low voice, “I went out to the Village to talk to Mary-Margaret. My mother finally called to tell her they’d gotten the grant.”

He crossed his arms across his chest. “That’s nice.”

“And not what you’re interested in hearing.”

“No, it really is nice.” He dropped his arms—then, not knowing what to do with his hands, gripped his thighs. “No one deserves financial help more than they do.”

“I agree. But I also know that’s not what you came here to talk about.” She took another sip, then set her wine aside and blew out a breath. And met his gaze.

He nearly jerked at the electricity that jolted through him when those big eyes locked on his. He’d managed not to react when she’d done the same thing in the bar, but the longer they were in the same room together, the harder it was to rein in his emotions.

“I didn’t expect to get so caught up in everyone’s lives when I came here,” she said in her husky contralto. “Not yours or Jenny’s or Jake’s or Tasha’s, either. Most of the charities I’m sent to assess are in urban areas, and I’m there for a week, tops. I enjoy the people I meet, but it’s a much shallower connection than I’ve found with you all.”

She glanced away for a second, then looked back at him. “I wasn’t prepared for you on so many levels,” she said. “Remember when we met at that park on Jake Bradshaw Photo Day?”

He nodded tersely. Christ, yeah. In repose, she’d looked so coolly somber and had held herself like a princess. He’d immediately wanted her but had been struck dumb in her presence.

“I’ve always been a pretty tactile person,” she said. “My dad used to tease me that I communicate more through touch than most people do with words. You probably don’t remember me patting your arm—”

“I remember,” he said gruffly. As if he’d forgotten a single moment with this woman.

“Well, when I touched you that day—” she licked her lips “—it was like putting my hand on a stove burner I thought was turned off but was actually cranked on high.” She shook her head. “No—it was more like coming into contact with a live wire. I felt that touch down to my toes.” She pinned him in place with solemn eyes. “I still do.”

He shifted.

“I have feelings for you,” she said. “I’m not sure that I’m ready to define them, but they’re very real. Frankly, though, Max? I’ve followed the same protocol for the position I hold at Sunday’s Child since I took over when my father died. It was put in place when my parents started the foundation—and it’s worked just fine up until I came to Razor Bay. So while I like to think that if I’d known you and I were going to have such a connection I’d have done things differently, I honestly don’t know whether I would have or not. The thing is, it’s the way my dad liked it.”

“And you were Daddy’s girl.”

“Yes.” She reached out to touch his hard wrist bones. Then her hand dropped away, and her back straightened as she looked him in the eye. “But if you believe nothing else, believe this. I had no agenda when I slept with you.”

“I know.” He blew out a breath. “Hell, I knew it even when I made that crack about us being fuck buddies, and I’m sorry for that. It was rude and crude, and I’m not proud that I only said it to make you feel as lousy as I was feeling.”

“It’s all right.”

“No. It’s not.”

“You’re right. It really isn’t.” Her eyes flashed. “That was a
horrid
thing to say.”

“My only excuse is that I felt blindsided and played. But I shouldn’t have been so quick to assume the worst. You’ve done things for me no one else has ever done. Even more than showing me how to eat better and going to a lot of trouble to plan my birthday party, because of you I feel like I’m much more a part of the community than I ever was before. So maybe—” He hesitated but then exhaled a gusty breath and plunged in. “Maybe we should see where this thing between us takes us. Go on a date even.”

He straightened away from the couch. Damn. Until the suggestion came out of his mouth, it hadn’t occurred to him that while the two of them had done a lot of stuff with the Cedar Village boys and had burned up the sheets, they’d never been on a simple date together.

“I’d like that. But I need to tell you something else.”

Shit.
“Tell me it’s not that you’re married.” But, no. Kev had definitely said she wasn’t in a serious relationship. He gave his head a little shake. He wasn’t thinking straight.

“No.”
She laughed a little. “But that stop-moving-and-die thing I told you about? I know it’s superstitious as all get-out—yet I believe it. So the idea of
not
traveling on a regular basis? I think it’s the main reason that every time I think of having something deeper with you, I panic a little.”

He frowned. “Why panic?”

“Because you’re clearly settled in Razor Bay. And I’m—” She gave him a helpless look. “Max, I’m basically the definition of a rolling stone.”

“We’re not talking about getting married,” he said with a wry smile. “So why don’t we just see where this goes.” But a wisp of unease twisted through him.

Because a woman with a yen to always be on the move?

Well, that was pretty much the antithesis of the white picket fence/someone to put him first relationship he’d always longed to find.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

B
ELLA
T’
S
P
IZZERIA
was such a madhouse Harper was surprised when Tasha not only spotted her, but actually interrupted her frenetic yet somehow graceful ballet between the order counter and her brick ovens to dash over.

“Hey, girl,” the strawberry blonde said. “It’s going to be another five minutes before your order is ready.”

She nodded. “They told me it would be twenty minutes when I called it in. I thought if I got here early I could just hang out.” She stepped out of the way of a harried mother who was trying to keep her place in the order line and at the same time corral two rambunctious boys who kept dashing away. “I didn’t realize it’d be so crazy busy.”

“First night of Labor Day weekend
and
Razor Bay Days, babe.” Tasha shrugged. “It’s gonna get crazier.”

Spotting the Cedar Village boy whom Max had recommended for an after-school job bussing tables, she asked, “How’s Jeremy working out?”

“Great, actually. He’s a big, good-looking kid and I was half afraid he’d spend most of his time flirting with the teenage girls. But much as they’d like it if he did, he pretty much keeps his head down and gets the job done.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She hesitated, then said, “Listen, I want to apologize again—”

“Harper. Honey. Give it a rest,” Tasha said. “You apologized. I accepted.” She shot her a wry smile. “It’s not like you came to town to steal corporate secrets. Or the recipe for my top-secret pizza sauce.”

“You and Jenny are certainly more forgiving than Max originally was.”

“Well...yeah.” She laughed. “Jenny and I aren’t doing the horizontal cha-cha with you. Rules skew when you throw wild monkey sex into the equation.”

“No fooling. I found that out the hard way.”

“Oh, here’s your order. Thanks, Tiff.” Tasha took the two-foot-tall stack of pizza boxes from her helper and checked it against the original order. “Tiffany put this on the inn’s tab so it looks like you’re good to go.” She turned back to Harper. “Come on, I’ll carry it out to your car for you.”

“You’re up to your eyeballs in work. You don’t have to carry my order!”

“I want to—it gives me an excuse to step outside for a breath of fresh air. Hey, did I tell you I got a renter for my apartment?”

“No. I know you were worried about the loss of rent.” Reaching the pizzeria’s front door, she held it open for her friend. “That must be a giant relief.”

“It is. And Will, the guy you met the day he gave notice, actually came up with his replacement.”

“Handy.”

“No fooling. It’s some guy named Luke...uh—” She blinked. “Huh. I have no idea what his last name is. I plugged the numbers and dates into a standard contract and had Will fill out the rest. He even mailed it for me.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. I’ll find out when it comes back. Anyway, how bad could he be—he’s Will’s college roommate. Apparently, he just left a government job and has some relatives he wants to catch up with in the area.”

“And if he’s anything like Will—” Harper let her voice trail off, but thinking back to the one time she’d met Tasha’s current renter she could only remember that he was a quiet man with forgettable features. So forgettable, she doubted she could describe him accurately if she had to.

“Exactly.”
Tasha grinned. “If the new guy’s
anything
like Will, he’ll be the perfect substitute. And it’s only a ninety-day lease.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Longer would be better, of course, but this gets me through the end of the year, and mid-November through the first full week of January is the pizzeria’s slowest time. When things start to lag I’ll have time to start spreading the word for the upcoming year.” She unloaded the pizzas into the trunk Harper popped for her, efficiently rearranged them for transport, then closed the lid. Giving it a final pat, Tasha straightened and turned to her. “So, you and Max are good now?”

“We are. Once we got over our original mad on with each other, we straightened things out pretty quickly. He’s even helping me at the Give a Parent a Break movie event at the inn tonight.”

“Are you serious? How on earth did you talk him into that?”

Harper shot her friend a cocky smile. “You are looking at a girl with advanced social skills, luv. Ad-vanced. Social. Skills.”

“I guess so, if you talked him into babysitting a room full of screaming kids.”

“Oh, no. I’ve got all sorts of activities planned to keep these kids entertained. Trust me. There will be no screaming tonight.”

* * *

M
AX
HAD
TO
raise his voice to be heard over the little girls racing by trailing screams in their wake that could strip brass off the door hinges. “How the hell did I let you talk me into this?”

“I have advanced social sk—excuse me a moment.” Stepping back, she brought a whistle he hadn’t noticed hanging from a lanyard around her neck to her lips. And blew. The sound bounced off the walls and brought every kid in the joint to a standstill to stare at her.

“Who wants pizza?” she asked, and when shrill shrieks of excitement promptly filled the air, she blew the whistle again, chopping yells off midscreech. “Look around you, boys and girls,” she said, twirling her hands to indicate the suite they were using for the evening. Her voice was soft and low, making the noise level drop even further as the dozen or so kids leaned forward to hear. “We’re using our indoor voices tonight. Becaaaause—?”

“We’re indoors,” several of the younger children, who hadn’t yet developed a need to act cool, responded.

“That’s right! So, line up and we’ll get some food. No pushing, boys,” she added for the benefit of two preteens who had started to do just that.

They gave her sheepish smiles and fell in line, and Max shook his head. She did have amazing social skills, and it clearly wasn’t age dependent.

They’d eaten, played a couple of games and were maybe ten minutes into a Pixar flick that appealed to all ages when his cell rang. Seeing that it was work, he whispered a quick, “I’ll be back,” and stepped into the bedroom portion of the room and closed the door. “Hey, Amy, what’s up?”

“I just had a call from a man asking for your number. He said it was about your father.”

Max’s heart gave a thump so hard he was surprised no one yelled at him from the other room to keep it down. For a second his mind went blank.

She said into the pool of silence, “I told him I’d get in touch with you—and if you wanted to talk to him, you’d call back.”

“Thanks, Amy. What’s his name?”

“Uh, that’s the thing, Max,” she said. “He said his name is Luke...Bradshaw.”

“Christ.”

“That was kinda my response, as well. You have an uncle or some cousins you don’t know about?”

“As far as I know, Charlie was an only child. Like me—and Jake.” A bark of unamused laughter escaped him. “But that says it right there, doesn’t it? For all I know, the two of us could have enough half siblings to make our own baseball team.” He rummaged through the drawer of the desk and pulled out a sheet of the inn letterhead and a pen. “I take it you got his number?”

“Yeah. You ready to copy?”

“I am.”

Amy dictated it to him, then said, “And apparently the first name is spelled
L-U-C.
” Her voice turned ironic. “Must be from a more hoopdy-do-dah town than the Bay.”

He thanked her for the call and disconnected. For a moment he simply stared down at the black ink phone number—and more importantly,
name—
on the cream stationery. Then he gave his head a sharp shake to get his brain cells moving again. He punched the numbers into his phone and hit Call.

It was answered on the first ring.

“This is Bradshaw,” said a voice almost as deep as his own.

“What a coincidence,” he replied. “So is this.”

There was a second of silence. Then: “Are you Deputy Max Bradshaw?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I was hoping to hear from you.”

He decided he might as well get to the point. “My dispatcher said you were calling about Charlie Bradshaw. What’s your relationship?”

“He’s my father.”

“Jesus.” He had no business being surprised, given Charlie’s history. But...Jesus. Scrubbing his fingers over the pang in his heart, he blew out a breath. “Are you it, then? Or are there
more
half siblings?”

“I’m an only child. At least that’s what I thought.”

“So what number wife was your mom?”

“Third. Third and—” He cleared his throat. “Look, could we meet? I don’t know if you know about Jake Bradshaw, but—”

“Yeah, I do. Where you calling from?”

“I’ve got a room at the Oxford Suites in a town called Silverdale.”

“That’s about fifteen minutes from here.” Max issued succinct directions to Razor Bay. “When you get here, go to The Anchor—it’s a bar on Eagle Road, which is the street behind Harbor in what passes for our downtown. I’ll hunt Jake down and we’ll be over.”

Surprise colored the other man’s voice. “He’s in Razor Bay, too? I called
National Explorer
magazine’s headquarters, but they wouldn’t tell me how to contact him.”

“Yeah. He lives here now.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at The Anchor.”

“How will I know you?” It shouldn’t feel odd not to know what this supposed half brother looked like, since until five minutes ago he hadn’t even known the guy existed. Yet somehow it did.

“I’m six-two, have black hair and I’m wearing a red-and-black running shirt.”

Feeling slightly dazed, Max returned to the living room of the suite and picked his way over lounging kids—one of whom was sound asleep—until he was in Harper’s line of sight. Catching her eye, he jerked his chin.

She rose off the couch and came to meet him. He pulled her out into the corridor.

“I’ve gotta go.” He hesitated, then said. “I just got a call from a guy claiming to be another half brother.” He scrubbed his temples with his fingers. Gave her a baffled look. “Another Bradshaw. I didn’t have a clue, Harper. Well, I guess there were a couple of half-assed rumors back when my dad left town. People said he was with a woman and a boy, but no one knew if he was Charlie’s.” He shrugged. “And, hell, I was in
grade
school, so what did I know?”

“Oh, my gosh, Max!” She rubbed his arm. “Are you okay?”

“I honest to God don’t know. I mean, I am. But I’m kind of overwhelmed, ya know?”

“Of course you are.”

“I’m going to track down Jake and go meet this guy at The Anchor. Jesus.” He rubbed his hand over his head. “I wonder how many more half siblings I have out there. As history proves, my father wasn’t exactly in-it-for-the-long-haul material.”

“Even if there are more out there, all you can do is take it a situation at a time. So, go find Jake and meet your new brother.”

“
Half
brother.”

Harper gave him a little smile. “That’s exactly what you said about Jake when I first met you. But I haven’t heard you refer to him as anything but brother lately.”

It was true that he did think of Jake as a brother now. Still—

“I’ve known Jake most of my life. Maybe we didn’t get along until this spring, but we at least have history. I’ve got nothing with this guy.”

Her expression was soft. “What’s his name?”

“Luc.”

“Really? Tasha was just telling me she has a new short-term renter named Luc who’s going to take Will’s apartment when he leaves next week. In fact, he’s in town to—” Maybe seeing he wasn’t paying the strictest attention, she waved the interruption aside. “That’s not important right now. Go break the news to Jake and the two of you meet Luc. Maybe you’ll end up forging a relationship with him, too. But even if you don’t, you must be curious.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I am that.” He bent to kiss her. “I’ll see you later.”

“Come to my place when you’re done, or at least give me a call. I’m dying to hear how it goes.”

“I will.” He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, then turned and left.

* * *

L
UCKILY
, J
AKE
WAS
home, but when he opened his door, Max simply stood there for a minute.

“Well?” his brother demanded. “You got something on your mind, or did you just stop by to admire my manly beauty?”

He didn’t even snort at the absurdity. “There’s a guy in town says he’s Charlie’s son,” he said flatly. “He wants to meet us.”

Jake stilled. Then he hitched his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I don’t know why I’m surprised,” he said. “Yet, somehow I am.”

“Tell me about it. We’re meeting him at The Anchor. Grab your wallet. You can buy.”

Since Jake never did anything in a hurry, it was another fifteen minutes before they walked through The Anchor’s door.

“Black hair, red-and-black shirt,” Max muttered, looking around. “You see anyone besides the Latino guy who matches that description? Oh. Wait.” He watched as Latino Guy looked straight at him and jerked his chin in acknowledgment. “Huh. Looks like he’s our man. Didn’t see that coming—I was looking for another you.”

“Please,” Jake murmured. “They threw away the mold after they made me.”

The man slid out of the booth he’d been occupying as they crossed the bar. His skin was similar in shade to Harper’s, except where hers was creamy, his was more golden-brown. The black hair he’d mentioned on the phone was cut very close to his head, perhaps to curb the curl, and the grooves bracketing his mouth looked as if they might evolve into dimples when he smiled.

Apparently, they’d have to wait for another day to find out, because New Bradshaw watched them as they walked up to the booth and didn’t offer so much as a token smile when they arrived. He merely said, “Hey,” and subjected them both to a quick study that reminded Max of every cop he’d ever worked with. “I’m Lucas—I go by Luc.” He did, however, thrust out a long, lean hand.

Guy had a mean grip, too—Max had to admire that at least. He was reserving judgment about the rest until he got some measure of the man. “I’m Max. This is my brother Jake.”