Return of the Last McKenna (Harlequin Romance) (2 page)

Damn. Damn.

No amount of time would heal that wound for Kate and her
family. No amount of time would make that better. What had he been thinking? How
could buying a basket ever ease the pain he’d caused Kate Spencer? What had
Andrew been thinking, sending Brody here?

Brody’s hand went to the card in his pocket again, but this
time, the cardboard corners formed sharp barbs.

“Sir? Your basket is ready.”

Brody whirled around. “My basket?”

Kate laughed and held it up. The arrangement sported a new pink
and white bow and the sports-themed chocolates had been changed for ones shaped
like flowers. “For grandma?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, thanks.” He gestured toward the article on the
wall. He knew he should let it go, but he’d made a promise, and somehow, he had
to find a way to keep it. Maybe then he’d be able to sleep, to find peace, and
to give some to Kate Spencer, too. “You had a brother in the war?”

A shadow dropped over her features. She fiddled with the pen on
the counter. “Yeah. My little brother, Andrew. He died over there last month. We
all thought he was safe because the big conflict was over, but there were still
dangers around every corner.”

“I’m sorry.” So much sorrier than he could say. He wanted to
step forward, but instead Brody lingered by the counter. All the words he’d
practiced in his head seemed empty, inadequate. “That must have been tough.”

“It has been. In a lot of ways. But I work, and I talk to him
sometimes, and I get through it.” She blushed. “That sounds crazy, I know.”

“No, it doesn’t. Not at all.”

She smoothed a hand over the counter. “He used to work here.
And I miss seeing him every day. He was the organized one in the family, and
he’d be appalled at the condition of my office.” She laughed, then nodded toward
the basket. “Anyway, do you want to put your card with that?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He handed Kate the message he’d scribbled to
his grandmother and watched as she tucked the small paper inside the cellophane
wrapper. Again, he tried to find the words he needed to say, and again, he
failed. “I’ve, uh, never been to this place before. Lived in this neighborhood
for a while and I’ve seen it often, but never stopped by.”

“Well, thank you for coming and shopping at Nora’s Sweet Shop.”
She gave the basket a friendly pat. “I hope your grandmother enjoys her
treats.”

“I’m sure she will.” For the hundredth time he told himself to
leave. And for the hundredth time, he didn’t. “So if you’re Kate, who’s Nora?”
He asked the question, even though he knew the answer. Andrew had talked about
Nora’s Sweet Shop often, and told Brody the entire story about its origins.

“Nora is my grandmother.” A soft smile stole over Kate’s face.
“She opened this place right after my grandfather came home from the Korean War.
He worked side by side with her here for sixty years before they both retired
and gave the shop to my brother and me. She’s the Nora in Nora’s Sweet Shop and
if you ask my grandfather, she’s the sweet in his life.”

“She’s still alive?” Ever since Brody had met the jovial, brave
soldier, he’d wondered what kind of people had raised a man like that. What kind
of family surrounded him, supported him as he went off to defend the
country.

“My grandparents are retired now,” Kate said, “but they come by
the shop all the time and still do some deliveries. My brother and I grew up
around here, and we spent more time behind this counter than anywhere else. I
think partly to help my grandparents, and partly to keep us out of trouble while
my parents were working. We were mischievous when we were young,” she said with
a laugh, “and my brother Andrew served as my partner in crime. Back then…and
also for years afterwards when we took over the shop from my grandma. He had the
craziest ideas.” She shook her head again. “Anyway, that’s how a Kate ended up
running Nora’s.”

Brody had heard the same story from Andrew. Both Spencer
children had loved the little shop, and the indulgent grandparents who ran it.
Andrew hadn’t talked much about his parents, except to say they were divorced,
but he had raved about his grandparents and his older sister.

It had been one of several things Brody had in common with the
young soldier, and created a bond between the two of them almost from the first
day they met. He’d understood that devotion to grandparents, and to
siblings.

“My grandmother runs a family business, too. A marketing agency
started by my grandfather years ago. My brothers and I all went in different
directions, so I think she’s pinned her hopes on my cousin Alec for taking it
over when she retires.”

She cocked her head to one side and studied him, her gaze
roaming over his suit, tie, the shiny dress shoes. A teasing smile played on her
lips, danced in her eyes. Already he’d started to like Kate Spencer. Her sassy
attitude, her friendly smile.

“And you, Mr. Red Sox ribbon, you are far from the business
type, being a doctor?”

He chuckled. “Definitely.”

“Well, should I ever feel faint,” she pressed a hand to her
chest and the smile widened, and something in Brody flipped inside out, “I know
who to call.”

For a second, he forgot his reason for being there. His gaze
lingered on the hand on her chest, then drifted to the curve of her lips. “I’m
right around the corner. Almost shouting distance.”

“That’s good to know.” The smile again. “Really good.”

The tension between them coiled tighter. The room warmed, and
the traffic outside became a low, muted hum. Brody wished he was an ordinary
customer, here on an ordinary reason. That he wasn’t going to have to make that
smile dim by telling her the truth.

Kate broke eye contact first. She jerked her attention to the
register, her fingers hovering over the keys. “Goodness. I got so distracted by
talking, I forgot to charge you.”

“And I forgot to pay.” Brody handed over a credit card. As he
did, he noticed her hands. Long, delicate fingers tipped with no-nonsense nails.
Pretty hands. The kind that seemed like they’d have an easy, gentle touch.

She took the credit card, slid it through the register, pushed
a few buttons, then waited for a receipt to print. She glanced down at his name
as she handed him back the card. “Mr. McKenna, is it?”

He braced himself. Did she recognize the last name? But her
smile remained friendly.

Yes, I’m Brody McKenna. The doctor who let
your brother die.

Not the answer he wanted to give. Call him selfish, call him a
coward, but for right now, he wanted only to see her smile again. He told
himself it was because that was what Andrew had wanted, but really, Brody liked
Kate’s smile. A lot.

“Yes. But I prefer Brody.” He scrawled his name across the
receipt and slid it back to her.

“Well, thank you, Brody.” His name slid off her tongue with an
easy, sweet lilt. “I hope you return if you’re in the neighborhood again.”

“Thank you, Kate.” He picked up his basket and headed for the
door. As he pushed on the exit, he paused, turned back. He had come here for a
reason, and had yet to fulfill even a tenth of that purpose. “Maybe someday I
can return the favor.”

“I didn’t do anything special, just my job. If you want to
return the favor, then tell all your friends to shop here and to call on us to
help them celebrate special moments.” And then, like a gift, she smiled at him
again. “That’ll be more than enough.”

“No, it won’t,” he said, his voice low and quiet, then headed
out the door.

CHAPTER TWO

W
HAT
had he
been thinking?

He’d gone into that little shop planning…what?

To tell Kate the truth? That her little brother had charged him
with making sure his sister was okay. That Brody was supposed to make sure she
wasn’t letting her grief overwhelm her, and that she was staying on track with
her life, despite losing Andrew. Instead Brody had bought a basket of
chocolates, and chickened out at the last minute. Damn.

“Tell me you’re quiet because you’re distracted by that pretty
hostess over there,” Riley said to Brody. The dim interior provided the perfect
backdrop for the microbrewery/restaurant that had become their newest favorite
stop for lunch. Brody had called Riley yesterday after his visit to Nora’s Sweet
Shop, and made plans for lunch today. That, he figured, would keep him from
making another visit. And leaving without saying or doing what he’d gone there
to do.

“Why are you mentioning the hostess?” Brody asked. “Aren’t you
getting married soon?”

“I am indeed. But that doesn’t mean I can’t keep my eye out for
a pretty girl…” Riley leaned across the table and grinned, “for
you.
You’re the last of the McKenna boys who isn’t
married. Better pony up to the bar, brother, and join the club.”

“No way. I’ve tried that—”

“You got engaged. Not married. Doesn’t count. You came to the
edge of the cliff and didn’t jump.”

“For good reason.” Melissa had been more interested in the
glamour of being a doctor’s wife than in being
Brody’s
wife. Once she’d realized he had opted for a small family practice
instead of a lucrative practice like plastic surgery or cardiac care, she’d
called off the engagement. She didn’t want a man who spent his life
“sacrificing,” she’d said. No matter what Brody said or did, he couldn’t fix
their relationship and couldn’t get it back on track. Brody’s family dream had
evaporated like a puddle on a summer day.

Brody picked up the menu and scanned the offerings. “How’s work
going?”

That drew more laughter from Riley. “Don’t think I’m falling
for that. You’re changing the subject.”

“You got me.” Brody put up his hands. “I don’t want to talk
about the hostess or my love life or why I didn’t get married. I want to visit
with my little brother before he attaches the ball and chain to his ankle.”

“No need for that. I’m head over heels in love with my wife to
be.” A goofy grin spread across Riley’s face. “We’re working out the final
details for the wedding. Got the place—”

“The diner.” A busy, quaint place in the heart of Boston where
the former playboy Riley had worked for a few weeks when their grandmother had
cut him off from the family pocketbook and told him to get a job and grow up.
Now, a couple of months later, Riley had turned into a different man. Stace had
brought out the best in Brody’s little brother.

“Gran had a fit about us having the wedding at the Morning
Glory, because she wanted us to get married at the Park Plaza, but Stace and I
love that old diner, so it seemed only fitting we seal the deal there. Stace has
her dress, though I am forbidden from seeing it until the wedding day. And you
guys all have your suits—”

“Thank you again for not making me put on a tux.”

Riley grinned. “You know me, Brody. I’d rather wear a horsehair
shirt than a tux. Finn’s the only formal one out of the three of us. He actually
wanted
a tux. Says I’m killing a tradition with
the suit idea.” Riley waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m sure Ellie will talk some
sense into him. That wife of his has been the best thing ever for ol’ stick in
the mud Finn.”

Brody shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re talking about
wedding plans. You’ve changed, little brother.”

“For the better, believe me. Meeting Stace made me change
everything about myself, my life. And I’m glad it did.” The waitress came by
their table to take their orders. Riley opted to try the new Autumn Lager, while
Brody stuck to water.

Riley raised a hand when a few of their mutual friends came in.
Then he turned back to Brody. “Want me to invite them over to join us?”

Brody thought of the small talk they’d exchange, idle chatter
about women, work and sports. “I don’t feel much like company. Maybe another
time.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Brody pushed his menu to the side of the table and
avoided his brother’s gaze.

“Sure you are. Brody, you’re still struggling. You should talk
about it.”

The waitress dropped off their drinks. Brody thanked her, then
took a long sip of the icy water. Talking about it hadn’t done any good. He’d
lost patients before, back when he was an intern, and in the last few years,
seen a few patients die of heart disease and cancer, but this one had been
different. Maybe because he’d lacked the tools so easy to obtain here.

Either way, Brody didn’t want to discuss the loss of Andrew. Of
the three McKennas, Brody kept the most inside. Maybe it came from being the
middle brother, sandwiched between practical Finn and boisterous Riley. Or maybe
it stemmed from his job—the good doctor trying to keep emotion out of the
equation and relying on logic to make decisions. Or maybe it stemmed from
something deeper.

Admitting he had failed. Doctors were the ones people relied on
to fix it, make it better, and Brody hadn’t done either.

“By the way,” Brody said, “if you guys don’t have a cake picked
out yet for the wedding, there’s this bakery down the street from my office that
does cupcake wedding cakes. They had a display in the window. I thought it
looked kind of cool. I know you and Stace are doing the unconventional thing, so
maybe this would be a good fit.”

“Changing the subject again?”

Brody grinned. “Doing my best.”

“Okay. I get the hint. No, we don’t have a cake decided on yet.
We planned this whole thing pretty fast, because all I want to do is wake up
next to Stace every day of my life.” Riley grinned, then narrowed his eyes.
“Hey, since when do you bring dessert to a get-together? Or heck, offer anything
other than a reminder to get my flu shot?”

Brody scowled. “I thought it’d be nice for you and Stace.”

Riley leaned forward, studying his older brother’s face.
“Wait…did you say bakery? Is it the one owned by that guy’s sister?”

“Yeah.” Brody shrugged, concentrated on drinking his water. “It
is. But that’s not—”

“Oh.” Riley paused a second. “Okay. I get it. Good idea.”

“I’m just offering to help defray the costs of your
wedding.”

“Whatever spin you want to put on it is fine with me.” Riley
chuckled. “Stace talked about baking the cake herself, but she’s so busy with
the diner, and then planning this thing. Let me talk to Stace and see if that
works for her. I’ll do that right now, in fact.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind, Brody. Not one bit.” Riley’s face filled with
sympathy. Riley knew very little about Brody’s time in Afghanistan. A few facts,
but no real details, and only because Riley had brought over a six-pack of beer
to welcome Brody home, and by the third one, Brody had started talking. He’d
told Riley one of the military guys who had died had been local, that he’d
struck up a friendship with the man before he died. But that was all. Brody had
hoped broaching the subject would be cathartic. Instead, in the morning he had a
hangover and ten times more regrets.

Riley flipped out his cell phone and dialed. “How’s the
prettiest bride in Boston today?”

Brody heard Stace laugh on the other end. He turned away,
watched the hum of activity in the restaurant. Waitstaff bustling back and
forth, the bartender joking with a few regulars, the tables filling and emptying
like tidal pools.

“Stace loves the idea,” Riley said, closing the phone and
tucking it back into his pocket. “She said to tell you our colors are—”

“Your colors?” Brody chuckled. “You have a color scheme there,
Riley?”

A flush filled his younger brother’s cheeks. “Hey, if it makes
Stace happy, it makes me happy. Anyway, go for bright pink and purple. Morning
glories, you know?”

Brody nodded. His brother had told him about the meaning behind
the diner Stace owned. The one started years before by her father, and decorated
with the flowers that he had said reminded him of his daughter. A sentimental
gift to a daughter he’d loved very much. “That’ll be nice.”

“Yeah,” Riley said, as a quiet smile stole across his face, “it
will.”

How Brody envied his brother that smile. The peace in his
features. The happiness he wore like a comfortable shirt.

It was the same thing Brody had been searching for, and not
finding. He’d thought maybe if he stopped by and talked to Kate, made a step
toward the promise he’d made, it would help. If anything, it had stirred a need
in him to do more, to do…something.

Hence, the cupcakes. Now that he’d opened his big mouth, he’d
need to go back there and place the order.

Damn.

“So how is work going?” Brody said before Riley turned the
conversation around again. His brother had started an after school program at
the arts centered high school he’d once attended. For creative, energetic Riley,
the job fit well.

“Awesome. The kids at the Wilmont Academy are loving the
program. So much, we opened it up to other kids in the area. We’re already
talking about expanding it in size and number of schools.”

“That’s great.” The waitress brought their food and laid a
steaming platter of mini burgers and fries in front of Riley, a Waldorf salad in
front of Brody.

“Why do you eat that crap?” Brody said. “You know what it’s
doing to your arteries. With our family history—”

Riley put up a hand. “I love you, Brody, I really do, but if
you say anything about my fries, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

“I just worry about you.”

“And I appreciate it. I’ll do an extra mile on the treadmill
tonight if that makes you feel better.”

“It does. Did you get your flu—”

Riley tick-tocked a finger. “Don’t go all doctor on me. I’m out
to lunch with my brother, and we’re talking about my job. Okay?”

Brody grinned. “Okay.”

As if to add an exclamation point to the conversation, Riley
popped a fry into his mouth. “Things at Wilmont, like I said, are going great.
We’ve got classes in woodworking, dance, film, you name it. They’re filling up
fast.”

“That’s great.”

“Oh, yeah, before I forget. We’re having a career day next
month and we’re looking for people to speak to the kids about their jobs. Answer
questions about education requirements, things like that.” Riley fiddled with a
fry. “Maybe you could come in and do a little presentation on going into
medicine. You know, a day in the life of a doctor, that kind of thing.”

Brody pushed his salad to the side, his appetite gone. “I don’t
think I’m the best person to talk about that.”

Riley’s blue eyes met his brother’s. Old school rock music
flowed from the sound system with a deep bass and steady beat. “You’re the
perfect one. You’ve got a variety of experiences and—”

“Just drop it. Okay?” He let out a curse and shook his head.
Why had he called his brother? Why had he thought it would make things better?
Hell, it had done the opposite. “I just want to get you some damned cupcakes.
How many do you need?”

Riley sighed. He looked like he wanted to say something more
but didn’t. “There should be fifty guests. So whatever it takes to feed that
many. We’re keeping it small. I figure I’ve lived enough of my life in the
limelight. I want this to be special. Just me and Stace, or as close as we can
get to that.”

Brody nodded. Tried not to let his envy for Riley’s happiness
show. First Finn, now Riley, settled down and making families. For a long time,
Brody had traveled along that path, too. He’d dated Melissa for a couple years,
and he’d thought they’d get married. Then just before he took over Doc Watkin’s
practice, he’d spent two weeks working for free in a clinic in Alabama, tending
to people who fell into the gap between insurance and state aid. He’d been in
the middle of stitching up a kid with a gaping leg wound when Melissa had called
to tell him she was done, and moving on.

“Thanks,” Brody said, getting to his feet and tossing some
money onto the table. He turned away, shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll let the
baker know about the cupcakes.”

“Brod?”

Brody turned back. “Yeah?”

“How are you? Really?”

Brody thought of the physicals and sore throats and aches and
pains waiting for him back in his office. The patients expecting him to fix
them, make them better. For a month, in Afghanistan, he’d thought he was doing
just that, making a difference, until—

Until he’d watched the light die in Andrew Spencer’s eyes.

“I thought I was fine,” Brody said. “But I was wrong.”