Carae's Touch (Long Line of Love, #4) (23 page)

"I know you can manage, but why should you? More to the point, why should the baby make do or just get by when he or she has a wealthy father? The baby will be entitled to a certain level of affluence that you just cannot provide. Besides, as much as I dislike his strange ass, he has a right to know."

She shook her head. "He's impossible. I'm not telling him. End of story."

"I can see you're upset, so I'm not going to belabor the point right now."

"But?" She turned to look at him. "What's the but?"

"But he has a right to know, Carae. Not to mention the fact that the baby will have the right to know who his father is. Can you imagine what your life would've been like without your father? I'm sure that wonderful mother of yours would have given you a good childhood, but just think how much richer your life has been knowing that you and Caren are the center of his universe. Would you really want to deprive your child of that wonderful feeling?"

She shook her head again. "He's impossible to talk to or understand and I don't see how having him in my child's life will be any particular benefit other than financial. Yes, having money would have been nice but we grew up very happy without a lot of financial means and so will my baby."

"Carae –"

"Please, Jim. You've had your say. The decision is mine and I've already made it. What I need from you is your support, not your advocating for him."

"Me advocate for him? I can't stand the man. I'm just trying to help ensure you're making the right decision."

"I appreciate that, but it's my decision and I've made it. Can I count on your support or not?"

He nodded. "Of course you can."

"Good because I'm going to need all my friends to get through this."

"You know I'll always be there for you."

"Thanks." She sighed. "Besides, I have a horrible feeling he already knows."

"How could he if you didn't tell him?"

She shrugged. "He has a way of knowing things he shouldn't know."

"How?"

"Do you remember what happened when you two met?"

"Yes. I still don't know what the hell that was."

"Well, that's probably how he knows. Don't ask me to explain it because I really can't, but I think he might already know."

"And?"

"And the fact that he hasn't done a damned thing to reassure me makes his refusal to talk about her hurt even more. I think he knows and just doesn't care."

"He sounds like a dickhead, but are you sure you don't want to take a few days to think things over before you decide there's no hope?"

"Until he's ready to talk, a relationship between us is impossible. Now I just want to go to sleep. Good night."

"Good night."

B
randon sat on his balcony with his eyes closed. After the scene with Carae, he knew sleep would prove elusive. He'd decided to go down to the pool to swim until he was tired enough to sleep when his phone rang. Although he didn't recognize the number, he took the call. "Hello?"

"Is this Brandon Grayhawk?"

"Yes," he said, frowning. Although the voice seemed vaguely familiar, he couldn't match it with a name or face.

"Doctor Brandon Grayhawk?"

"Yes. And you are?"

"This is Jim Jordan."

Who the hell was that? "Who?"

"Rae's roommate."

He sat up, his heartbeat increasing. "What can I do for you?" he asked, willing himself not to jump to conclusions.

"I thought you might like to know what a first class ass you are."

So he wasn't calling to deliver bad news. "What the fuck do you want?"

"To know what kind of an idiot you are. Why the hell don't you do the right thing and talk to her? How can any dead woman, no matter how much you cared about her, be worth losing a live woman who loves you?

"Carae told me you have a doctorate degree, but I'm wondering if you actually bought it rather than earned it."

"What the fuck—"

"How can anyone who actually earned a doctorate degree possibly be as stupid as you clearly are?"

"Butt the fuck—"

"Butt out? Fuck off, but before you do, I think you should know that you'll be an even bigger ass than you already are if you think she's going to sit around waiting for you to come to your fucking nonexistent senses. She's a sweet, sexy woman who doesn't have to settle for your shit. There are plenty of other men with more sense who will be only too happy to help her get over your stupid ass."

"If you're including yourself in that number, you'd better think again," he warned, struggling to hold onto his temper.

"Why shouldn't I? Who could possibly be in a better position to take advantage of your idiocy than the guy she lives with who also happens to know her rather well?"

"If you touch her—"

"She'll be touched, dickhead and I promise you I won't make any of your stupid ass mistakes."

Before he could respond, the other man ended the conversation.

He put down his phone and sat with his right hand clenched into a fist. He had to tell himself storming off to beat the hell out of him would almost certainly backfire. Besides, he decided the other man was probably just trying to push his buttons. He was not going to rise to the bait and risk digging himself into an even deeper hole with her.

Although he knew she was hurt and angry, he was hopeful that she'd be more willing to give him a little more time after she'd had a few days to cool off. In any case, once he'd managed to resist the first rush of anger, he found it difficult to believe that Carae would go from wanting a relationship with him to ready to hop into bed with another man in the foreseeable future.

He thought of his ruined plans for the evening and of the ring he'd never gotten a chance to give her. Then he thought of Rissa and the ring he no longer wore around his neck. This time, he had to get it right. That meant he was going to have to talk about Rissa and hope that Carae would understand and still be willing to trust her heart to him.

He picked up his phone and called his favorite florist and placed an order. Then he sent a text message to his secretary and one to his personal assistant before calling Max Stoner. "I need a favor."

"Let me guess, you've managed to fuck things up with Carae," Max said. "What is it with you stupid fucks? You meet fertile women who love and adore you and you're too stupid to close the deal."

Annoyed by how accurately Max had summed up the situation between he and Carae, he spoke in a terse voice. "If I wanted a damned lecture from someone whose opinion I actually valued, I'd call one of my brothers."

"So now my opinion is worthless?"

"Refresh my memory, Stoner, by reminding me who the hell you have in your life that's actually worth knowing. Who the hell have you managed to close the deal with?" He resisted the urge to point out that both Max and his younger brother Sebastian had been sniffing around Rayna Redwolfe, the niece of one of Brandon's bandmates, for years.

"When I finally meet someone who shares my feelings, I can guarantee I won't fuck things up like you and Jayvyn nearly did," he said of one of Rayna's uncles.

So Rayna didn't share his feelings. Damn.

"What is it, a Native American thing to keep fucking up?"

"Shut the hell up, you ignorant fuck!"

"Let's not forget who's calling who asking for a damned favor. Before you tell me what you want, let me warn you that if you're too stupid to know the value of what you have in Carae, that there are others who aren't."

"And let me warn you that if you think for one damned moment she'd have any interest in your deranged ass, you're more delusional than everyone gives you credit for being."

Brandon half expected Max to tell him to fuck off and hang up. Instead, he laughed. Brandon heard clear amusement in his voice when he spoke again. "What can I do for you, dickhead?"

C
arae woke the next morning to find a beautiful bouquet of roses on one nightstand. A covered tray emitting the delicious aroma of sausage sat on the other. She reached for the card accompanying the roses. She held it against her breasts before she opened it.

I need you. Please bear with me. Brandon.

She tossed the card aside. She'd bear with him when and if he demonstrated her importance by putting her needs first for once. Not a damned minute before. Her stomach growled and she realize she was hungry.

As she turned to lift the cover off the tray, there was a knock on her bedroom door. "Come in," she called.

Jim opened the door and looked in. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'll let you know after I've eaten." She smiled. "This smells delicious, Jim. Thank you."

"I wish I could take credit for it but I can't. I didn't cook it."

She frowned. "Then who did?"

"He did."

"Who?"

"You're love sick Injun."

She frowned. "Oh, Jim. How can you be so derogatory?"

"Easy. I can't stand the bastard."

"He sent this before he went to New York?" Despite herself, the thought of him getting up at the crack of dawn and cooking her breakfast and bringing it over to her before he went to New York touched her.

"He's not in New York."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he's downstairs in the lobby waiting to hear if you'll see him."

She picked up her phone from the nightstand and glanced at the time. "But it's after seven. He'll never be in New York in time for his 8:30 breakfast meeting."

Jim shrugged. "Maybe the idiot finally realized what's more important."

Her heart pounded. "You think so?"

"I think he's an idiot who doesn't even come close to deserving your love or even desire. But what I think doesn't count. What you do does. I'm on my way to work. Shall I let him in as I go out or shall I tell him to drop dead?"

"Let him in," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"No, I'm not. But let him in any way."

He hesitated, staring at her.

"I know you probably think I'm making a mistake, but—"

"I think you should do what makes you happy. If giving his dumb ass another chance does that for you, then it works for me."

"Thanks and wish me luck."

"I don't think you're going to need it, but good luck anyway. I have a feeling you probably won't be here when I get home, so do me a favor and keep me in the loop. Let me know what's going on so I don't worry."

She nodded. "I will. I promise."

He winked and walked out of the room.

Her appetite gone, she jumped out of bed and rushed into the bathroom. When she emerged half an hour later, she hurried into the living room.

Brandon, dressed in a pair of jeans and a pull over under a dark jacket turned from the window to face her.

She resisted the urge to rush across the room and into his arms. "You didn't go to New York."

He shook his head.

"Is your failure to go going to present problems for you?"

"The people I work with are very good at what they do and can handle anything I can. Although my clients won't be happy not to have my personal, undivided attention, I hope they'll understand."

"And if they don't?

He shrugged. "For now, all that's important, is for me to make sure you understand how much you mean to me. I'll worry about any possible fall out later."

Afraid to read too much into his appearance, she took a slow deep breath and waited for him to continue.

He crossed the room to caress her cheeks.

She suppressed a shiver.

After a moment, he cupped a hand against her cheek and bent his head.

Although she longed to feel his lips on hers again, she shook her head and stepped away from him. "If you're hoping to kiss me into submission, you're going to be disappointed, Brandon."

He sighed. "I was hoping you'd be happy to see me, Carae."

"That depends on why you're here."

"I was way out of line last night. The last thing I want is for you to feel that I'm not willing to listen to your concerns."

"And yet that's exactly what happened last night."

"I know and I'm sorry. I promise I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't happen again."

"You'll do your best?"

He shrugged. "Unfortunately, I'm a work in progress. I fucked up last night, but I'm ready to listen to whatever you want to tell me and I'm ready to talk."

"About?"

"Anything you want or need to discuss, including my relationship with Rissa and a few things important to me."

"What things?"

"First things first. I'm ready to talk about Rissa."

"Are you really ready?"

"No, but I'm going to do it anyway. I am not going to lose you because talking about our relationship is still painful."

She glanced at her watch. "We can talk after I get home from work."

"I've taken the week off. I know that might not be possible for you on such short notice, but I was hoping you'd at least be able to take the day off. Can you?"

He was finally prepared to put her first. She would meet him halfway. She nodded. "Yes. Just give me a few minutes to call in for a personal day and take a few bites of breakfast."

He nodded. "I have all day and I'm more than willing to spend it waiting for you."

Thank God. With her heart pounding, she went back to her bedroom and called the automated system and put in for the two remaining personal days she had. Then, she sat on the side of her bed and took a few bites of food. The eggs nearly melted in her mouth and the sausage were the best she'd ever tasted, but with her goal within reach, she had no real appetite.

She picked up the tray and took it to the kitchen where she put the food away for later before rejoining him in the living room.

"You're finished eating already?" He asked.

"Everything's absolutely delicious. Thanks for taking the time to make me breakfast." She smiled. "I had no idea you could cook like that."

"I can't. I got Max Stoner to cook it."

"Max Stoner? The hunk from the Darkwater's party?"

He frowned. "You said Macarik was a hunk. You think Randall and Peyton's picture should be in the dictionary under hunk. Now you're calling Max one too?"