The Expectant Secretary (12 page)

“This is my doing.” Jillian's voice gained assurance and strength. “This baby is mine. I'll raise it alone.”

Stabbing the steaks with the tines of the serving fork, Brody lifted them off the grill and onto a broad platter. Guilt suffocated him. She spoke with wisdom. It was a lot of responsibility for a man who was not the father. Maybe too much. Angry at himself for his selfish attitude, he slid the screen to the side too hard and it screeched.

Both women looked up, as if startled he was still around, as if they'd forgotten he was listening. Jillian's blue eyes were round and sparkling. He wanted to go to her, tell her everything would be okay, he'd take care of her, of her baby. But something inside him held him back. An emotion he didn't recognize and didn't admire trapped him. He couldn't promise what she wanted.

Matilda sighed. “I just don't believe any of that. I
think any man would be eager to marry you.” She looked to Brody for help. “Don't you?”

“Dinner's ready,” he said, uneasy.

“You definitely need to come to Reed and Mallory's wedding next weekend.” Matilda led Jillian into the apartment. “Right, Brody?”

“Did you check the spuds?” he asked, putting the platter of steaks on the dining table and heading toward the kitchen.

“Wouldn't you like to come to the wedding?” Matilda asked, pushing.

“I, um, don't think it would be…polite,” Jillian stammered, “I mean, since I don't know the bride or groom.”

“Nonsense. It's not like you'll be crashing the wedding. We'll get you a date.”

“Oh, I don't think—” Jillian tried to stop Matilda.

But his little sister didn't pay attention. “Okay, an escort.” She trailed after Brody. “Hold on there, big brother.” She grabbed his arm and turned him around.

Over his little sister's head, his gaze met Jillian's. Wide and uncertain, her eyes stayed on him, searching his face, probing his heart, seeking his help.

“Don't you think Jillian should go? It would be good for her.” Matilda snapped her fingers with sudden inspiration. “I have a brilliant idea. Jillian needs someone who won't monopolize her time. She needs to feel free to meet the single men at the wedding.” She glanced over her shoulder at Jillian. “Right?”

“I don't think…” Jillian paused, hesitant and awkward.

“And of course, the best person for that job is
Brody. You can introduce her to men and then skedaddle so you won't be a threat.”

His hand closed into a fist. He'd threaten whomever he wanted. Whenever he wanted. Especially if it had to do with Jillian.

“So you'll take her to the wedding? Won't you?” Matilda pushed.

What could he say? No? Yes? Oh, hell. He was caught. “I suppose. That is, if she wants to go, I'd want to be the one to take her.”

Maybe she'd back out.

“Well?” Matilda looked to Jillian. “Is that all right with you?”

Jillian had the look of a kangaroo caught in the headlights. As if she couldn't escape, either. Shrugging, she said, “If you're sure I won't be intruding on the celebration.”

Matilda clapped her hands. “Then it's settled. Jillian you now officially have a date…er, escort for the wedding.” His sister shot him a steely-eyed glance. “And you, sport, better be on your best behavior. Treat her right. You hear?”

“My pleasure,” he stated, sensing it might be his punishment.

 

“Brody, you—”

“Jillie—”

They spoke simultaneously, sitting side by side in his rented sports car. Jillian clasped her purse in her lap. If she shifted too much in the supple leather bucket seat her shoulder would brush his. She already knew how strong and vibrant he felt. She didn't need any reminders.

What had she agreed to? A date with Brody? To a wedding? Oh, heavens! How could she get out of it?

Hooking his wrist over the steering wheel, he tilted his head toward her. He gave her a crooked, engaging smile. “Go ahead. You first.”

“No, it's okay. What were you going to say?” She blinked, feeling as nervous as a sixteen-year-old on her first date. Maybe he'd back out before she had to.

He shifted the car into gear and brushed back a lock of black hair that had fallen across his forehead. “I wanted to apologize for Matilda.”

She almost breathed a sigh of relief. Here goes. Brody must be feeling just as trapped as she was. Now he was going to back out and make it easy on her. But for some crazy reason, disappointment choked her.

That's what you want, isn't it? You want him to back out—back off—move out of your life and make your life simple again.

She wasn't sure anymore.
No, of course, that's how I want it.
She didn't want to date Brody. Even a pretend date. Especially a pretend date. Or was it the “pretend” part that she objected to the most?
Heaven, help me!

“Matilda gets charged about certain topics,” Brody continued, accelerating as they sped up the ramp onto the highway leading to her home. “Specifically men. She's always been boy crazy, now she's
man
crazy and that's much worse.”

Jillian stared at him, confused by his choice of words, intrigued by the sure, confident way he turned the wheel and the boldness with which he shifted gears.

“I should have told her about James…or warned you…” He shoved his fingers through his hair, leaving tufts standing on end. She had an urge to smooth his hair back into place but resisted. “Hell, I shouldn't have let her go on like that about finding a man for you.”

“It's all right,” Jillian said, wondering how long it was going to take for him to get around to backing out of their date.

“No, it's not.” His voice deepened with what sounded like regret and a good measure of angst. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, making the veins on the back of his hand prominent. “And it's my fault.”

“Really—” she placed her hand on his arm, briefly, but long enough to feel the tension in him and a spark of electricity sizzle through her “—it's okay.” She pulled her hand away.

“Matilda's got this notion that she wants to get married and have a family right away. But it seems like every man she goes out with is…lacking.”

Jillian imagined what it would be like to have so many overprotective brothers. The image gave her a warm, cozy feeling inside. How she wished at times there was someone to care enough, to love her enough, to watch over her, to be concerned for her welfare. Someone sure and strong, bold and brave.

Her gaze slanted toward Brody. A deep longing welled up inside her. What would it be like for Brody to care that much for her? But not as a brother. As a lover. She wanted to feel his arms around her, his hands on her, to taste his kiss again. For him to be the one who'd help give her a family, a home.

Shaken by her need, she cut her eyes back to the road and watched the headlights slash through the darkness and the angry red brake lights flash in front of them. She slammed on the brakes of her speeding thoughts. She focused instead on Matilda, doubting his little sister enjoyed his protection.

Managing a forced laugh, she said, “Is that big brother talking? Somehow I doubt you Fortune brothers will approve of any man Matilda brings home.”

He bristled. “If the man was decent we'd approve.”

Jillian shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“We're just trying to protect her from herself,” Brody said. “She picks men who are too wild, who aren't interested in settling down. Men like…like your James.”

As if jabbed with a red-hot poker, Jillian's defenses went on alert. “What do you mean by that?”

“You said it yourself. He fooled around on you. Drank too much. From what you told me back in college, I never thought he was worth much, anyway. The way he was always telling you how to dress, what to say, where to go, who to talk to.”

“You're one to talk.” She crossed her arms over her chest, fuming.
How dare he act like Mr. Perfect. When he was anything but!
“How dare you!”

“What?” He looked at her, then back at the road. “What did I say?”

“You of all people shouldn't be condemning James for his…cheating. Not when you've done it yourself.”

His head snapped in her direction. He glared at her,
then forced himself to watch the road. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She couldn't help herself. Anger pumped through her veins until her body trembled with the effort to suppress her rage. She'd gone this far. She might as well confront him as she'd wanted to do years ago. “Did you forget about Gail?”

“Gail? Gail who?” He shook his head.

“Easy come, easy go, eh?” she said, not believing for a minute that he didn't know who she was speaking of. “Gail Harken. You remember her, don't you?”

“Gail Harken?” He stared at her, acting confused, when she knew he'd finally been caught.

“Yes. Tall, redhead, went to Winslow.”

“Gail Harken?”

“Would you stop saying her name!” Her temperature reached the boiling level.

“What does she have to do with this?” he asked.

Anger burned inside her like a well-fueled furnace. Once more, the fury, hurt and humiliation ignited until she felt herself incinerating from the inside out. Maybe it was time she told him off for what he'd done. Maybe it would finally help her put Brody in her past where he belonged so she could go on with her life.

Gritting her teeth, she spelled it out for him. “You were sleeping with her when you were supposed to only be dating me.”

S
tunned by Jillian's accusation, Brody swerved the car to the shoulder of the road. The BMW came to a shrieking halt. Shock yielded to fury, and it hammered inside him to get out. He glared at her. “What the hell are you saying?”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned with anger. “That you are just as bad as James. Maybe worse.” Her voice caught. “I expected more from you. I believed you. I—I…”

He shook his head, confused by her words. “I don't understand. I wasn't dating Gail. We'd broken up before I started going out with you. Where did you get this crazy idea?”

She sucked in a shaky breath. “From the direct source—Gail. She came to see me the night…
that
night.” She jerked her chin and stared out the passenger window. “Why am I bothering?”

He remembered
that
night as if it were yesterday. The night air had been scented with eucalyptus. The stars had glittered brightly. His pulse had hummed with anticipation of them going away together, of making love to Jillie for the first time. Because he'd known she was the woman he'd marry. When he'd gone to pick her up, his nervous excitement had become riddled with anxiety. He'd learned she'd
bailed…gone back to the States. He still felt the impact—the roiling confusion, the crushing blow—as if it had happened yesterday.

His pulse echoed in his ears as he remembered Gail coming to him later, trying to comfort him. He'd pushed her away. Nobody, no woman could heal the crack in his heart. Except Jillian.

Now, she shoved a spike into that crack, widening it. How could she so easily have believed that lie?

She looked at him again, her eyes gleaming with defiance. “She told me you'd been two-timing both of us.”

He cursed. He aimed the harsh words at Gail, at fate, at Jillian. “And you believed her?”

“N-not at first.” Her eyes were round and full of unshed tears that made the blue shimmer. “I trusted you. And you know how hard it was for me to trust anybody…any man…after my daddy left.” Her shoulders squared. “But I learned to trust you. I trusted you.”

She blinked and twin teardrops spilled from her eyes and ran down her cheeks, marking a trail for the past and one for the future, erasing all that had been between them and the possibility of anything again.

Wild, chaotic emotions churned inside him, stirring up anger, bitterness, and deep penetrating sorrow. Why had she believed Gail? Why did fate have to play this ugly trick? How could he ever convince Jillian of the truth?

His anger narrowed on her. She'd believed a lie against him. A gross, outrageous lie that had no resemblance to the facts. Why had she so easily accepted Gail's word over his? He almost laughed but
he couldn't get a sound through his closed windpipe. She hadn't even asked for his side of it! And she'd ruined their future together, by not trusting him. “Why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you ask me for the truth?”

Silence pounded inside the car as the questions lingered. No answer could bridge the gaping space that had separated them.

Without turning toward him, she said, “Because I knew you'd deny it. Just as you are now.” Her voice shook as if she were reliving the rage. “I was angry, hurt, humiliated, and in no mood for empty denials.”

He clenched his hands, tightening them around the steering wheel, as if he could choke the truth out of it. So much time had been wasted. So much had been lost. All because of a lie.

“You didn't even give me the benefit of the doubt. Not even enough to question me…to give us a chance.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

“Maybe. It could have made all the difference in the world. If you would've given me a chance, instead of believing a damn lie.”

She jerked her chin, moving further away from him. “I am not the guilty party here. Don't make me out to be the villain.”

Immediately he knew a flat denial would be like a ball bouncing off a brick wall. She had closed her heart to him, to the truth, long ago. She had wanted to believe the lies. For whatever reason, she'd wanted to believe the worst about him. And she had. There was no convincing her now. A hollow ache throbbed in his chest.

“Gail told me what you'd been doing that weekend you said you had to go home to see your family. She told me how you both had gone off together…the way we were supposed to go away that night.”

He shook his head, knowing he couldn't say anything to convince her otherwise. “So that's why you left school? Because you didn't want to face me.” And that's why she'd married James.

“No.” She sounded sharp. “I wanted to slap your face, to tell you off, to…” Shadows shrouded her face. As a car passed, its headlights gave him a glimpse at the stark pain in her eyes.

“I called home to talk to Mom, to tell her about…to cry on her shoulder.” She gave an uncomfortable shrug. “That's when I learned she'd been taken to the hospital. She'd had a stroke.”

Her belief in his betrayal combined with the loss of her mother must have been a devastating blow. His chest tightened as he imagined all she'd suffered.

Resignation clamped around his throat. “Then that's why you didn't bother to say goodbye.”

She gave a slight nod. “I had to go home. To be with her.”

He ran his palms over the supple leather encasing the steering wheel. Grief seized his throat, squeezing, strangling the last of his anger.

Regret defied logic, tunneled through his self-serving emotions to make room for one last question. What if he could convince Jillian that Gail had lied?

Could he undo the pain of the past? Or did it matter anymore? Yes, dammit, it did. He couldn't let her believe a lie. He couldn't let her believe he'd acted like James, that he'd cheated on her, that what they'd
shared—their love—had been false. It had meant everything to him. She had changed his life. And her leaving had devastated him.

He shifted in his seat and faced her once more. The defiance gleaming in her eyes stabbed him. His temper bled red fury. He grabbed her by the arms, pulled her close until she couldn't hide, couldn't look away. He searched for some recognition of the truth.

“It was a lie, Jillie. A damn lie. I know you don't believe me. I have no proof but my word. Which probably means nothing to you. Not now. Not after James trampled on your vows. Not after your father deserted you.” His heart bruised his breastbone, pounding, hammering, beating with determination. “But I swear to you that I was faithful to you. I loved you. More than I'd ever loved anybody. I never would have hurt you like that. I would have done anything for you.” His voice faded, his strength drained out of him as he read disbelief in her eyes. “I still would.”

He released her as suddenly as he'd grabbed her. “Hell, I can't convince you.” He slumped back in his seat, defeated by the actions of others that resonated louder and stronger than his love ever could. “Damn! Damn Gail. Damn you for believing her.”

The silent echo after Brody's censuring shook Jillian to her very foundation. She felt the walls around her heart shift and crack. What if Gail had lied? Suddenly events that had seemed so clear were now fuzzy and blurred. Had she even questioned whether Gail was telling the truth? Or had she jumped off a huge cliff into the wrong conclusion?

He shoved the gearshift into place, punched the accelerator and whipped the car back onto the highway.
The rumble of the engine couldn't drown out the roaring in her ears and pounding in her temples. She stared straight ahead, watching the headlights slice through the darkness the way his condemnation had slashed through her pain.

He didn't speak another word the rest of the drive. Her mind spun with questions. Her accusations turned inward. Doubts surfaced. She tried to assimilate all he'd told her, all he hadn't said, with his simple denial, with his blunt anger.

Was it her fault for believing Gail? Why had she so readily turned against Brody? Had a part of her wanted to condemn him as she'd condemned her own father for running out on her?

Then the truth ignited inside her. She'd wanted to run out on Brody. Before
he
could leave
her.
As she'd believed he eventually would.

She'd never understood why Brody Fortune, the most popular and best-looking man on campus, had wanted to be with her. Maybe that lack of self-esteem had undermined their relationship and condemned it from the beginning. Maybe it had just been a matter of time. If it hadn't been Gail, then it would have been something or someone else. She swallowed back bitter tears, choked down the what-ifs and maybes that welled up inside her.

Then another question blazed inside her. Had she married James because he would give her fears credence? She'd admitted to marrying him more for comfort and security than for love. He hadn't come through on anything she'd hoped or expected from him. Except that he'd cheated on her. In that, he'd proven her theory that love fails.

A deep sorrow welled up inside her. She must have sensed that Brody could hurt her more than anyone else ever had or ever could. And she'd taken the first opportunity to believe the worst, to make her escape. Before he could destroy her.

When Brody stopped the car in front of Amy's house, she remained unmoving in the passenger seat, unsure what to do or say. Jolted to the very core of her being, she couldn't find the strength to move or speak. The engine idled and she felt the vibrations throughout her body. She didn't know who to believe—Gail, Brody, even herself. Her own instincts were colored, tainted.

But she recognized one distinct possibility. A possibility that shattered the past and paved a way toward the future, illuminating it with uncertainty. She had jumped to conclusions. She'd taken the easiest path. And she'd been wrong.

She hadn't possessed the belief or trust in herself that someone could love her, stay with her, be true to her. And she'd paid a dear price.

“Brody, I…” She faltered, as she now did in her once firm convictions. Each uncertain word brought sharp pain. She couldn't go back. She was scared to go forward. But she couldn't stay where she was, alone in the dark and afraid. “I don't know what happened between you and Gail and—”

“I can tell you what happened. Nothing.”

She tensed. His anger frayed her nerves. Her brow furrowed, and she gripped the door handle for strength, for support or for a way of escape. What had she done? What was she doing? Was she too afraid
to face the truth? Too shaken to confront the possibility that she'd made another mistake? “But, I—”

“Believe what you want, Jillian. I can't convince you otherwise.”

“I just want to understand what happened.”

“I told you.” He ground the words out between his teeth and leaned toward her until they were but a breath apart. “Nothing happened between Gail and me. There was nothing between us. Nothing. Ever.

“Yes, I dated her. For a short time. Before I knew you. Before you and I began seeing each other. But no, I didn't love her. I didn't care for her. Not the way I cared for you. Not the way I loved you.

“And no, I didn't go away with her for the weekend. I didn't make love to her. It was a lie. A fabricated lie she wove to get back at me. Or to get me back. I don't know which. I don't even care now.

“It worked, though.” He gave a coarse laugh. “It convinced you. It destroyed me. And she won.”

“Brody—”

“I didn't go back to Gail. I couldn't—” His voice broke off, hoarse and shattered. “Not after I'd gotten a taste of real…” He stopped himself. “Hell, I guess it was all a figment of my imagination. It doesn't matter anymore.”

His voice injected venom into her heart. She felt the fear inside her shrivel and die. It did matter. His pain mattered to her, more than she would have believed.

Determination took root inside her heart. Looking into his iron-colored eyes, fortified with a strength and resilience she could barely comprehend, she recognized a new courage surfacing, growing inside her.
Not born of fear, but of hope. An urgent need claimed her, pounded inside her until her skin tingled and burned with intensity.

Pale light from a streetlamp softened the hard edges and sharp contours of his face. She wanted to touch him, to smooth away the creases in his brow, to erase the lines bracketing his mouth, pulling it tight. Her focus centered on him, his very essence, the man she'd known, the man she wanted to know again, and she remembered his gentleness, his intensity.

“Jillie,” he said, his voice hoarse and rough, “go inside.”

She shook her head, unable to move away from him, no longer able to retreat. She touched him then. He jerked but didn't move away. Her fingertips glided over the plane of his jaw, moving toward the corner of his mouth. The roughness of his skin awakened a need deep inside her. His clean scent stirred her desire. Tilting her head, she pressed her mouth against his.

At first he felt stiff, surprised, unsure.
Oh, what have I done now?

She hesitated. Her insecurities tangled around her, entrapping her once more. She could hear his sharp, unsteady breaths. Her heart faltered.

Against her mouth he said, “Kiss me, Jillie. Like you mean it.”

It was a challenge. She almost backed down, retreated. But not again. Not this time.

Acutely aware that she'd wounded him, that she'd hurt herself, she had to prove to him…to them…that she wasn't a coward. She'd loved him once. Maybe she loved him again.

Awkward as a teen with her first intimate kiss, she slanted her mouth against his, opened her lips and waited. Waited for him to join her on this new exploration. But he didn't move, didn't offer any help.

Tentatively, she touched her tongue to his lips and she heard a low, erotic growl in the base of his throat. “Is that the best you can do?”