Man of the Month (Willowdale Romance Novel) (13 page)

BRAD OPENED his eyes to a vision. Jeanne, curled up beside him, her arm flung over his back. If he could wake to this every morning, he’d be the luckiest man in North Carolina. Hell, in North America. If there was any doubt how he felt about her, last night had sealed the deal. He loved her and wanted her. Forever. He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, and her eyelids fluttered.

She smiled. “You’re still here.”

“’Course I am. Where’d you think I’d go?” He leaned forward to kiss her softly on the lips. “Plus we live together now. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

He winked at her. If he had it his way, he’d never be moving out.

She pressed her lips against his and wrapped her hand around the back of his head. “Now this is a great way to wake up,” she said, when she stopped for a breath.

“I was thinking the same thing. And I was also thinking we should have done this a long time ago.” He rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I’m just wondering why we haven’t already done it again.”

She looped her leg around his, and all systems were fired up, ready to go. He slid his hand down her back, hugging her bottom in his hands. She was warm and soft and wonderful, and she was right where she belonged. With him.

“Should we pick up where we left off?” she asked, nipping at his lip while pressing her chest against his.

He held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” He rolled off her and leaned over the side of the bed, looking for his wallet and another condom. He couldn’t find it, so he crawled out of bed, surveying the floor with his hands on his hips, like a naked general wielding one hell of a weapon. She had quite an effect on him.

He felt Jeanne reaching for him, brushing her fingers along his skin. Along his lower back. Along one of his scars. It had faded over the years, but three pale ridges remained arced across the top of his rear.

“Brad? What’s this?” Her voice sounded pained, like she already knew the answer.

He didn’t answer.

She pulled her hand away. “What happened there?” She swallowed her words.

He still said nothing as he reached down and scooped up his wallet, sticking out from under the bed. He opened it, searching through the section where he normally stashed his condoms. Not that he used them often.

“Brad? Answer me.”

“Shit.” The curse served double duty. He was out of condoms, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about the marks on his back.

She sat up and crossed her arms. “You’re not going to tell me.”

He couldn’t look at her. It wasn’t something you noticed in the dark. Even in a dim room. But in the bright morning light, he was sure it was quite visible. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about it in a long time. “Shit.”

She reached for his hand. He pulled away.

“I don’t have another condom.” He threw his wallet to the ground, sat on the bed and rubbed his neck.

Jeanne dropped her head back onto the pillow and groaned. “Brad, I need you. I want you.”

One glance south, and it was pretty obvious he was feeling the same way. There was no hiding that. But he shook his head. “I can’t take the chance.”

She strapped her arms across her chest and pouted. “Just pull out before things get too far. What are the chances? Nothing will happen.”

“You saw those scars on my back. Those might happen.”

She tilted her head and scrunched her brows together.

He was wrong. She hadn’t figured it out.
Well, she needs to know. She needs to know what I could be capable of.

“That was the time the screen door got broken.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Your father did that because you broke a door?”

“Actually, Mitch broke it. But Dad was madder than usual, and Mitch was just a kid. I was thirteen and knew I’d fare better than a six-year-old, so I took the blame.”

Jeanne choked back a sob and reached out for his hand. He pushed her away. “Wrong day for a broken door. He used more than his hands that day.”

“Oh,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea how bad things were for you.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and he hated himself for letting her into his hell. But she had to know. He frowned and nodded. “And who’s to say I wouldn’t do the same thing?” He pressed a hand against his chest. “That’s probably lurking inside me, too.”

She slammed her hands on her quilt. “You’re not like your father. You’re not. You wouldn’t do that. No.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed. “He wasn’t that way, either. Not at first. Not until my mother died. Who’s to say something wouldn’t send me over the edge, too?” He shook his head. “Sorry, Jeanne. I want you. God, how I want you. But I can’t risk it.” He let her hand go and left the bed, nervous he wouldn’t be able to resist her. “I can’t.” He shook his head. He knew they were talking about more than another romp. “I can’t make that kind of mistake.” He grabbed his boxers off the floor and pulled them on.

She curled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “A miracle like that between you and me could never be a mistake.”

He let out a growl of frustration. “What, did you think I was kidding about all this? One incredible night in the sack would change everything I’ve been telling you for years?” He shook his head and planted his hands on his hips. “I can’t risk being a lousy father.”

She dropped her head onto her knees and started crying.

He walked over and sat on the bed next to her. He toyed with a piece of hair falling over her shoulder. He took a breath and lowered his voice. “Why can’t you change your mind? How do you know we couldn’t have a happy life together, just the two of us? There’ll be plenty of nieces and nephews between our two families.”

He was pleading. He never pleaded.
Damn.

Jeanne rolled over, facing the wall, and pulled the blanket around her like a shield. A shield from him. The crying got worse.

Hell, what a huge mistake this had been, making love to her. “Jeanne
 . . .
” He rubbed her back through the soft material, uncertain what to say.

“I understand,” she said through her sniffles. “I really do. It’s not going to work.”

His hand stilled on her back, and he sat there wishing he had the words to argue back. But she was right.

He pulled on his jeans, ready to leave, but remembered he was living with her now. Double hell. Didn’t matter, though. He had to get out of there. He got dressed, grabbed his jacket and keys, and went out driving with no particular destination in mind. Just away.

JEANNE LET HERSELF cry in bed for half an hour. How was she falling deeper and deeper in love with a man she couldn’t have? Who didn’t want the same things? And she understood. After seeing what his father had done to him
 . . .
She shivered, remembering it. Brad had been terribly hurt—emotionally and physically—and didn’t want to do the same thing. Her heart ached for him, and she finally understood. It wasn’t going to happen. She had to respect his decision no matter how she felt.

Lordy, she was ridiculous. Maybe her sister was right. Maybe she purposely fell for someone she could never have. She threw her pillow against the wall and set her bare feet on the cold wooden floor. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and headed for the shower. No way could she wash away the memory of Brad, but she had to do something—and fast.

The spray of water hit her like an insult. She lathered up her hair like she might be able to wash some sense into her head. How was she going to get over him?

Then it hit her. Setting
her
up with a man hadn’t worked, but maybe if she found someone for him, she’d be forced to give up. As long as Brad was on the market, she was going to be miserable. No, that wasn’t totally true, she thought. She’d be miserable if he was with someone, too. But at least there wouldn’t be a repeat of the night before. That, she could not handle again. Not without breaking her heart forever, utterly and completely.

She stepped out of the shower and dried off, thinking. Who did she know that she could set up with Brad? Who was good enough for him? She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

No one’s good enough for Brad.

She needed to meet with the girls to figure this one out.

THE THREE of them were tucked in a booth in the back of the Jelly Jar.

“Wait, now you’re setting Brad up with the Woman of the Month?” Tonya looked confused as she finished off her milkshake.

Jeanne waved her hand. “Of the month, of the week, whatever it takes.”

“Seriously?” Kate asked. “Why? Why now?”

Jeanne shrugged. She wasn’t sure she could fess up.

Tonya narrowed one eye at her. “You say you don’t want him—but we know you do. And now you’re trying to set him up.” One eyebrow popped up. “The lady’s protesting a bit too much.”

“What’s going on?” Kate asked. “Really.”

She sighed long and hard. “Fine. I’ll admit it. I love him. There, I said it.” She covered her eyes. “And I slept with him last night.” She peeked through her fingers.

Kate dropped her fork, and Tonya let out a whoop.

“Hot damn, girl!”

“I knew you’d break sooner or later, living under the same roof. It’s practically a law of nature,” Kate said, putting her arm around Jeanne. “Enough alone time in a room with a hot guy, and you’re done for.”

Jeanne stirred her drink with her straw. “Yeah, well it was short-lived. We got in a big fight this morning about the whole baby issue. It will never, ever work between us.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to shake away the memories. Then she plucked an ice cube out of her soda and started chewing on it, nervously.

“I can’t have him, and the sooner he isn’t available, the better for both of us. Trust me. So please, think. Who would be perfect for Brad?”

“Besides you?” Kate asked.

Jeanne dropped her head back against the seat. “No, I’m anything but perfect. I want kids, he doesn’t. Case closed, no room for compromise. I finally got it into my thick head that this is a dead-end relationship, and I need to do a U-turn and fast.”

“If you say so.” Tonya shrugged. “Well, if you’re serious, I got a new girl down at the salon a few weeks back. Lily Phelps. Just moved here to be with her grandma. You know, Nancy Phelps, just outside of town?”

Kate and Jeanne nodded.

“Guess she broke her hip and needs someone to help care for her, so Lily came to town. She’s been going on about her sorry love life since the day she got here.”

Jeanne tipped up her chin. “Is she pretty?”

Tonya snorted. “Do bees like honey? Are perm fumes noxious? Do I have a sweet tooth worthy of the Guinness Book of Records?”

“All right, all right, I get it. She’s pretty,” Jeanne said.

Tonya frowned. “And curves I would kill for.”

Jeanne crossed her arms and looked down at her non-existent chest. “Tonya, you have more curves than the Charlotte Speedway.”

She grunted. “Not like Lily. We’ve picked up quite a few new male clients thanks to her.”

Jeanne narrowed her eyes, fighting back the acid roiling in her stomach just thinking about Brad dating this curvy, pretty Lily, a woman kind enough to come here and care for her grandma, and hot enough to lure men from miles afar like a bowl of fresh catnip.

But what was Jeanne going to do? It was hopeless. Maybe someday she’d be over him. If she saw him happily engaged or married, wouldn’t she have to be happy for him? Wouldn’t she
have
to move on and wish him the best, and maybe put together a real future for herself? “Oh heck, go ahead and ask her if she’s interested.”

Tonya and Kate gave each other a look.

“I’m serious.”

Tonya shrugged. “Okay. Let’s all meet out Saturday night at The Hideaway. You bring the man.”

“It’s a date. For Brad, hopefully,” Jeanne said. Guess she was just going to have to get used to that pit in her stomach, ’cause it wasn’t going away. It was getting worse.

BRAD WAS stuffing a stack of boxer shorts in his duffle bag when Jeanne came home. Damn. He’d hoped to finish this before she got back.
And slink off like a coward.
Well, whatever it took.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to sleep at the office.”

“The hell you are.” She took him by the hand and led him to the couch.

He looked at their hands locked together, and she pulled hers away.

“Last night was a big mistake,” she said. “We both know that. It won’t happen again.”

Just because they wouldn’t end up together didn’t make him want her any less. He needed to get out. “Last night was pretty great, J. It’s hard to be around you.”

“But you know and I know it is never going to work out between us.” She lowered her voice. “I understand that now. Really. I know where you’re coming from. We slept together, we got that out of our system, and now we can move on.”

He was silent, not quite believing what she was saying.

“It’s true. I was wrong. I don’t want you, Brad.” She wouldn’t look at him.

It took a moment before he could say, “For real?”

She nodded. “And we can’t destroy our friendship and our business relationship. So, there’s no use running away from each other.” She stuck out her hand. “Friends?”

He shrugged. “Guess it’s gonna have to be.”

He looked into her eyes but didn’t see the sparkle he loved so much.

Then she smiled wide. “Now what about Mr. May?”

He blinked. “I thought I’d have to harass you into it again. Wasn’t sure I was up to that this month.”

“Nope. I said I’d do it. How about this Friday?”

PRETENDING TO BE excited about Mr. May the rest of the week was taking its toll. While Jeanne got ready for her date, Brad sat on the couch watching a ball game. She did her best to seem enthused, as though her night with Brad had been tucked away and filed under memories to be forgotten. Hopefully, the one-two punch she had planned this weekend would put this nonsense to rest. She’d go on a date tonight and then introduce him to Lily tomorrow. Game over.

He kept glancing into the bathroom. “Do you always take this long to get ready? I could have replaced all the plumbing in there in the time you’re taking.” There was a teasing note to his voice.

“Surely one of your old girlfriends got ready in front of you before.”

“Guess I never paid attention. Does this mean you’re really interested in this guy?”

“This means my hair isn’t wavy enough to be cute and isn’t straight enough to look good. So I have to use my flat iron. Then there’s the makeup, multiple wardrobe changes. Be glad you’re a guy.”

“I’m sure your date will appreciate it.”

“I hope so.” Truth was, this was just show for Brad, so he’d think she was game. She had zero desire to go on this date.

JEANNE COULD’VE written one hell of an online dating profile for Mr. May. Zed Martin was tall, knew the stats for NASCAR’s top twenty drivers—a real turn-on for half the gals in North Carolina—but also canned peach preserves and rescued abused Rottweilers. And he was hot to boot. Damn. A manly, sensitive, jam maker was about as common as a purple unicorn in these parts. She should be batting her lashes and showing some thigh.

But nothing.

After two drinks at the bar, she grabbed her purse. “Zed, you know that obnoxious saying, ‘It’s not you, it’s me?’ We’ve got a major case of that going on here. Tell Brad we had a nice time, but just didn’t hit it off.”

Zed crossed his arms, an amused smile creeping onto his face. “You’re not even going to give me a chance to charm you over dinner?”

“I just don’t want to waste your time. You’ve got at least four women in this bar watching your every move.”

He hitched an eyebrow. “Hadn’t noticed. I’ve been watching you.”

She sighed. Clearly her hormones had packed up and left her if she wasn’t responding to this kind of attention. “There’s a blonde at ten o’clock licking her lips as we speak.”

He laughed softly and shook his head. “So, you’re not joking. You’re really not into this?”

She pressed her eyes shut, paused long enough to see if any kind of longing was kicking in, then said, “Nope. Long story. Like I said, it’s not you, it’s me.” She hopped off the barstool. “No, go on, have fun. But don’t tell Brad I didn’t make it through dinner.”

“I’ve never forced myself on a woman, and I’m not about to start. No worries. I’ll tell Brad we had fun, but no sparks. Although it’ll be a lie on my part.”

She shook his hand. “Nice meeting you, Zed. Hope sparks fly with some of these gals.”

“They usually do. Nice meeting you, Jeanne. Call me if you change your mind. I’m sure I could reignite my sparks for you real fast.”

She could feel his gaze on her as she walked out of the restaurant, but knew he’d have some company very soon. She drove to the movie theatre in Whitesville, ordered a large popcorn since she hadn’t had dinner, and then suffered through a weepy romance while notching up her cholesterol level. Neither left her feeling good. She made sure the lights were out in her house before she crept in after midnight.