Have Husband, Need Honeymoon (10 page)

Josh! He tried to yell, but another explosion rent the air, drowning his voice. Flames burst from every part of the fighter jet. God, he had to hurry.

He grabbed the tip of the wing and crawled over it, scorching his hands and knees. He tore at the debris, pushed through the flames, calling Josh’s name.

Then he saw his friend’s face. Blood matted Josh’s hair as he sat slumped over the controls. Fire licked along the walls of the cockpit. Flames danced around Josh, biting at his clothes. Brady yelled again and tried to push past them. But fire shot upward, surrounding Josh, consuming him. Brady could smell the burning metal, the blood…

He jerked awake, sweat soaking his hair and face, his body trembling. He stared at the empty room, the tangled sheets, the darkness, and dropped his face in his hands, silently screaming with rage. Why couldn’t he have saved Josh?

Several minutes later, he crawled from bed, yanked on running shorts and a T-shirt and headed outside. He couldn’t jog yet, but walking would be good for him. He had to think, to escape the demons.

Dawn crept around him as he trekked into the small sleepy town. Birds chirped, the smell of hot doughnuts and pastries wafted from the local bakery, a newspaper boy riding a bike tossed the morning edition on the dry front lawns. The sun shone brightly, but Brady felt dismal. Then he saw the rec center.

Was Alison inside, swimming laps as she used to early in the morning at the high school or had time changed her routine?

Telling himself he would only check out the weight room and get a drink of water, he pushed open the door. A full weight room sat to the left, another room with modern exercise equipment to the right. Signs to the locker rooms, a sauna, exercise classes, baby-sitting services and the swimming pool were posted in clear view. Unable to stop himself, he headed toward the pool.

Alison must have just arrived.

He stood in the shadows of the doorway, watching greedily as she tossed her gym bag on the floor, stripped off her T-shirt and shorts and began a series of stretching exercises. She wore a simple, one-piece navy suit that was split high on her thighs, showcasing those killer long legs. She was tanned and lean and more curvy than he remembered. Her breasts strained against the thin fabric of the suit as she raised her arms and stretched them above her head, and he swallowed, his pulse accelerating at the image.

Sweeping her long hair into a ponytail, she secured it with a rubber band, then executed a graceful dive into the water. The pool seemed to embrace her as she glided along, her long arms pulling her as if she put very little effort into the motions. But he knew she did. Her morning swims were a stress release, she’d told him, a time to think, to energize herself for the day. To burn calories so she could indulge in her favorite foods; she had a sweet tooth, a penchant for ice cream.

Funny how he hadn’t forgotten the little things about her.

After several freestyle laps, she moved into a more serious workout, switching to the breaststroke, her specialty. The one she’d won the county championship with in high school. The water rippled around her in small waves, the outline of her body clear and perfect in the water. Brady felt himself growing aroused, not just by her beauty, but the calm confidence with which she executed the strokes.

Then suddenly she stopped. Turned over to her back. Gazed across the empty pool area and saw him in the doorway.

“Brady?”

He heard the catch in her voice. Damn. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay. But I thought I sensed someone watching me.”

“I … I went for an early walk. I just happened by to check out the center.”

She rolled into the backstroke and swam toward him. Knowing he’d look like a stalker if he didn’t act casual, he moved across the deck, hesitating by the pool side.

She paused, placed both hands on the deck and leaned her chin on them, looking up at him. Her eyes raked over him from head to toe, her gaze pausing at his knee.

His mangled, scarred leg.

He instinctively shifted, his first instinct to turn and hide. He’d forgotten he was wearing shorts. It had been nearly dark when he’d left the house. Her lower lip quivered and he wanted to run, but that was impossible. He’d probably fall and make a big fool of himself.

Finally her gaze rose to his face and he braced himself, telling himself it was best she saw him the way he was now. Scarred and broken. Then she wouldn’t want him.

“Why don’t you come in? The water feels great.”

Not what he’d expected. Her soft voice sounded damn near seductive echoing in the empty space. But she had to be putting him on; she didn’t want to show him how repulsive she found him.

“I don’t have a suit.”

Her smile was slow and full of mischief. “I think those running shorts will suffice. Or you could go skinny-dipping like you did—”

As if she hadn’t seen enough
. “Alison, don’t.”

Her smile died. “What? Don’t remind you of the good times?” A sad expression darkened her eyes. “We did have good times, Brady.”

“I know.” He hated the gruffness in his voice. “But those times are over.”

She hesitated, licked her lips, smiled again, a beautiful come-hither look that made his gut wrench. Why was she acting this way, as if things hadn’t changed, as if he was the same?

“They don’t have to be.”

His breath caught, but he remembered his conversation with Vivica.
Alison is worried about you…
Yeah, she was planning to marry Emerson, but she felt sorry for him. Brady didn’t want any part of her sympathy.

“I have to go.” He fisted his hands by his sides. “And, Alison, stay out of my business from now on.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you and my sister talking about me.”

Disappointment and hurt flitted across her face, but he turned and walked toward the door. And this time he didn’t try to hide his limp. He wanted her to remember exactly how bad his leg had looked so she’d know how much he had changed.

Just before he closed the door, she picked up a rubber flip-flop and threw it at him. “If you don’t want me, Brady, then don’t come back here and watch me swim again!”

He closed the door, heard the shoe bounce off of the surface, and promised himself he wouldn’t.

* * *

“Of all the nerve!” Alison stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. “He is so infuriating!” She called Brady every vile name she could think of while she smoothed lotion on her legs, then dried her hair. She’d stopped by to work out and get up her nerve to finally tell Thomas they were finished.

She must be crazy. Thomas was easygoing, levelheaded, nice, consistent – the exact opposite of Brady. Yes, she must be crazy to consider calling it quits with Thomas.

But she was definitely finished with Brady Broussard.

The man had more moods than she did on a bad-hair PMS day. She did not need him screwing around with her head. One minute he was sneaking up on her and watching her swim, looking at her with lust and love in his eyes, the next he was staring at her in disdain and telling her to mind her own business. How dare the insufferable man!

If he’d been close enough, she’d have dragged him into the pool and clobbered him. Then she’d probably have tried to pound some sense into him. And then she would have tortured him with a hundred kisses. And after he was good and steamy from wanting her the way she’d wanted him a few minutes ago, she’d prance away, leaving
him
feeling hot and bothered and alone.

He couldn’t play these games without being punished.

She halted, her bra half over her ear, one sock on, one off as she remembered the scars on his leg, the way he’d stiffened when he’d seen her look at them. Punishment…

Maybe Brady’s idea to return to Sugar Hill and run his father’s business, his idea to push her away – maybe it was a form of punishment. She yanked at her underwear, lost her balance and hopped around, trying to steady herself. But she tripped over her sneaker and fell
kaplunk
on the cold locker room floor, staring at her worn-out shoes. Could Brady be feeling so guilty about the accident he’d decided to punish himself by giving up the thing he loved most – flying?

And what about her? No, she wouldn’t entertain the idea that he still loved her. Oh, he still wanted her sexually, that much was obvious, but love – no, Brady had obviously forgotten what love meant.

It didn’t mean driving someone crazy.

But the part about flying, about punishing himself – that made sense.

She blew her hair from her eyes, pushed herself up to finish dressing, Brady’s last words screeching in her head like a siren.
Stay out of my business. I don’t wan’t you and my sister talking about me.

Well, hell, she thought, fastening her bra with a snap. She’d never taken orders from a man before, and she certainly didn’t intend to take them from Brady. Husband or not.

* * *

Back at home, Brady showered and changed, then hurried to the print shop before his mother arrived, determined to escape her doting and avoid another run-in with Vivica. Eight years on his own, almost four in the military, had ingrained independence in him, but his mother seemed to have forgotten he’d ever been away. He’d learned how to survive on nothing but the barest of rations, how to brave the wilds of the jungle and survive in enemy territory, yet yesterday his mother had started to cut his French toast for him. He’d had to politely take the cutlery before she offered to feed him like a baby.

But Alison hadn’t coddled him. No, she’d looked at his scar, invited him to swim with her as if she’d actually
wanted
him, then thrown her shoe and yelled at him when he’d made her mad. He grinned, feeling almost normal again.

Ridiculous.

When he arrived at the shop, he turned on the lights and headed to his new desk, the one his mother had already fixed with his engraved nameplate, and began to sort through the day’s list of tasks.

Judging by the stack on his desk, he had a full day’s work. Exactly as he’d had the day before.

* * *

“Thomas, I appreciate you meeting me here.” Alison sipped her diet soda to moisten her dry mouth. She’d practiced her speech a dozen times on the way to meet Thomas, but now the words stuck in her throat like glue.

Running into Brady earlier had really rattled her. Then she’d bumped into Vivica, who had pressed her to meet for lunch, wanting to discuss Brady. Alison had been so upset, she’d refused both.

To top that off, when she’d first entered the Hotspot, she’d seen her mother and father sitting in a booth together, talking and laughing. They were actually getting along.

Alison took another sip of soda, missed her mouth and sent cold cola trickling down her chin. Jerking herself back to her senses, she grabbed several napkins and tried to clean up the mess.

Thomas smiled and cradled his coffee between his hands. “What’s going on, Ali? You seem nervous.”

The sugar packets were spilling from the container at an odd angle so she straightened them. Thomas caught her hand and stilled her movements.

“Come on, we’ve been friends for a while now. Something’s bothering you.”

“I can’t marry you right now.” Alison closed her eyes, hating herself for simply blurting it out.

“I know.”

She jerked her eyes open. “What?”

His smile was so understanding she wanted to cry. “I know. It’s that Broussard guy that came back to town, isn’t it?”

She opened her mouth to deny it, but he arched a brow, and she paused. “Yes. No. It’s complicated.”

 “Ahh…”

“You really should be a shrink instead of an OB-GYN. You’re such a good listener, Thomas.”

“Most women rattle on when they get nervous. I have to do something while I’m examining them.”

Alison glanced at his face, saw the teasing in his eyes and laughed. She reached up and hugged him. “Oh, Thomas, you’re so understanding. I … just need more time. My life is crazy right now with so many weddings to plan and my mom coming back to town. But I do care about you.”

He traced a finger along her hairline, tucking a strand behind her ear. “It’s all right. There’s no rush, Ali. Take all the time you want. I’ll be here when you decide.”

Alison squeezed his hand and thought about the hope chest, the veil, the annulment papers. Could they be signs suggesting she free herself to be with Thomas?

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Let me know when you work things out, okay?”

“I promise.” She squeezed his hand and watched him go, confusion washing over her. Darn it, why couldn’t Brady be as easy to understand and get along with as Thomas?

She glanced across the bookstore. Maybe Rebecca could help her find a good how-to book on men – how to understand the husband you didn’t realize you still had. Or how to love the man you
should
love, and forget the ones who’d already broken your heart. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her father rising. Probably going to check on Mimi, who was pregnant and happy and as rosy as a big ripe strawberry.

Instead her dad headed straight for her.

Uh-oh, she was in for it now. From the fierce fatherly expression on her dad’s face, she had a feeling her mother had told him about the divorce.

* * *

Vivica stormed into the print shop and slammed a fist on the counter. “What in the world did you do to Alison?”

Brady dropped the shipment of fliers he’d just completed, sending them scattering all over the floor. “Dammit, Vivi, look what you made me do.”

“You did something to upset her and I want to know what.”

“What makes you think I did something to her?” Irritation crawled over Brady. The fliers were probably dirty and he’d have to reprint them, as if the first time hadn’t been boring enough. He tried to kneel to salvage them, but pain knifed through his leg, and he wobbled and broke out in a sweat.

“Good grief, Brady, I’ll get the stupid fliers.” Vivica ran a hand through her pixie hair, spiking the ends. “You get us some coffee, because we’re going to talk—”