Authors: Mariah Stewart
“Here, let me have that coat of yours.” Jesse held the back of Brooke’s coat as she slid out of it. He hung it on the coatrack in the corner.
“Thanks. It’s nice and warm in here,” Brooke noted. “Not so much outside.”
“I know. I got blasted by the wind out there on the soccer field. Should have had the sense to wear a heavier jacket.” He took her by the elbow. “The conference room is this way.”
“You were playing soccer this afternoon?” she asked.
“Clay asked if I’d pitch in and co-coach his team. The other coach left without giving much warning, so it sort of left—”
“You were coaching Logan’s team today?” Brooke frowned. And Clay hadn’t bothered to mention it?
“It was fun.” Jesse opened the door to the conference room and turned on the light. “Don’t know how much of the fundamentals most of the kids are actually retaining, but it was fun. Eight is a funny age.”
“Don’t I know it.” Then again, she reasoned, why would Clay have had any reason to think she’d be interested?
Jesse held the door for her and she stepped into the room. It was paneled halfway up the wall in cozy chestnut, with dark green wallpaper above the wainscot. There were portraits on the wall and a brick fireplace in the corner. The table could easily seat twelve and was surrounded by captain’s chairs with green leather seats.
“Nice room,” Brooke observed.
“I’ve only used it once or twice, and only with a large group.” He held her chair for her. After she sat, he took his seat at the head of the table.
“Why’s that?”
“Why have I only used it a few times?” He seemed to ask himself the same question. “I guess because I’ve only needed a larger space those few times. And, I guess, too, because it seems like it’s my grandfather’s room. I feel like an interloper when I’m sitting in his chair.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way.”
When Jesse shrugged but made no comment, she said, “You and Mrs. Finneran seem to be getting along.”
“I suspect my charm may have finally won her over,” he said drily as he opened a file. “That and the fact that I asked her to help me plan my grandfather’s birthday party. Remember I asked you about cupcakes?”
Brooke nodded. “Did you decide on a date yet?”
“I’ll have to look at a calendar, but probably the Saturday after next.”
“Are you kidding? That’s barely two weeks away.”
He stared at her. “Right.” After a moment he asked, “Is there something wrong with that date? Do you have a conflict?”
“No, but it usually takes awhile to plan a party.”
“What’s to plan? I thought we’d have it at Lola’s since that’s his favorite restaurant. They have that private room on the second floor.”
“Invitations?”
“Violet is working on the guest list. She knows who his friends are. She’ll know who to invite.”
“You know that the shorter the amount of time between the invitations going out and the event, the more likely you’ll have a lot of decliners, right?”
He still looked a little blank. He was, she realized, such a guy.
“I guess I should ask Violet about that list tomorrow.” He frowned. It had obviously not occurred to him that people might have other plans.
“That would be wise.” She suppressed a smile and added, “Let me know about those cupcakes as soon as you can.”
“I’ll do all that tomorrow.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I guess I haven’t thought this through in those terms. I haven’t thrown any parties.”
“Ever?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been to a lot, but I’ve never given one.”
“I’ll help you. And Violet will help. It’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.” He smiled and the worried expression left his face. She found she couldn’t stop looking at his mouth. “So. Let’s take a look at what we have here.” He handed her a photocopy of her old will. “I guess the first thing we need to do is take Eric’s name out.” With a pen, he drew a line through Eric’s name wherever it appeared on the first three pages.
She waited for the stab of pain in her heart, for the ache that would remind her of the finality of this action. But for the first time, she didn’t feel as if Eric were watching from somewhere, accusing her of betraying him, of forgetting him too soon. She felt only
that she was taking care of some necessary business, and that Eric would approve.
“Investments?” Jesse was asking.
“Still with the same broker as noted there.”
“Real estate?”
“No.”
“How ’bout the business that Eric started with his brother? Did they own a building or some land?” Jesse made notes as they went along.
“I don’t know.”
“So, I guess you haven’t heard anything since our letter went out?” he asked. “I thought maybe he’d call you after her received it.”
Brooke shook her head. “It really isn’t like Jace to ignore a letter like the one you sent him. Did I tell you how much I appreciate that you made it so friendly?”
“There was no need not to be. We were just making an inquiry. Now, about a guardian in the event that something happens to you. Not that it’s likely, but with Logan being so young, you really should have a plan.”
“Of course. And it would be Clay,” she told him.
“And if Clay were not available?”
The question caught her off guard. That something should happen to her and Clay both, after what had happened to Eric, was unthinkable. Yet she knew that in the real world, the unthinkable happened every day.
“I guess Dallas, but I’ve never discussed it with her. I should probably ask her first.”
“How ’bout Eric’s brother?”
She considered it for a moment, then shook her head. “I want Logan to grow up in St. Dennis. If I
were gone—and Clay gone—well, my son’s roots are here. I really hadn’t thought about it all those years I lived away, but now that I’m back, I feel a very strong connection to the town and to the people I know and love here. I want him to have that, too.”
Jesse nodded. “I understand. I wasn’t born here, didn’t grow up here, but I can understand what you mean. I think I’d like my kids to grow up here, too.”
“You’re planning on staying, then?” she asked a little too quickly, she thought, a little too eagerly. She felt her face flush red and tried to remember the last time she’d actually blushed. “What I mean is, there was some speculation that you were just filling in for Mike while Andrea was sick.”
“In the long run, I suppose my granddad is going to have to decide what to do with the firm. But if it were up to me, yes, I’d stay and make a home here. I’m ready to settle down, I think, and this seems to be the right place for that.”
Violet appeared in the doorway. “I had a few more things to finish, but I’ll be taking off now unless you need me.”
Jesse shook his head. “No, we’re fine, Violet, thank you. Have a good night.”
“Good night, Mrs. Finneran,” Brooke said.
“Good night, dear.” Violet disappeared for a moment, then reappeared. “Jesse, do you want me to lock the door?”
“No, I don’t think you need to bother since the delivery guy is coming.”
“He should be here in about forty-five minutes,” she reminded him, her voice trailing off down the hall.
“Thanks again for putting the order in,” Jesse called. “Now”—he turned back to Brooke—“where were we?”
“I think we were talking about a guardian for Logan.”
He nodded. “Right. And that’s taken care of, so now I think we need to talk about other provisions for Logan.” He glanced at his notes. “You mentioned that you thought Clay had intended on reserving some of the farm for your son. If Clay is still planning on that, just make sure he has it written in his own will. If it isn’t written down somewhere, have him call me and we can take care of that easily enough.”
“I didn’t ask him if he had a will, but if he does, it would be in this office. Either your grandfather or Mike would have done that. Mrs. Finneran would know.”
They spent the next thirty minutes going over other changes and suggestions that Jesse made. At five after six the doorbell rang.
“Must be dinner.” Jesse excused himself and went to the conference room door.
Brooke reached over to the folder with her name on it and picked up the will on which Jesse had been making notes in his small, neat, and precise handwriting. There was nothing there they hadn’t talked about, and she slid the pages into the file and closed it, topping it with her copy. She was pretty sure they’d covered everything that needed discussing. As far as she was concerned, the business portion of the meeting was over. The rest of the evening—well, through dinner, at the very least—should be more casual, more social, but she felt slightly nervous and wasn’t
sure why. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. It was only dinner, right?
Jesse came into the room carrying two bags from which heavenly fragrances wafted.
“I don’t know what Violet ordered, but it smells great.” He placed the bags on the table and grinned when he saw that Brooke had folded up the files and cleared away the papers and pens. “Work time is over. I agree. Let me get a few plates …”
He disappeared down the hall as he talked, his voice fading out for a moment, then rising again as he returned to the conference room.
“… and we can take a few minutes to unwind. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a long day.” He handed Brooke the plates. “What about you? How was your day?”
“Long,” she agreed, and told him about the cupcakes she’d risen early to bake and deliver. Then, having been asked for more, she went back home and baked another three dozen cupcakes.
“So basically you baked all day.” He started to unpack the bags.
“No, I had two classes, one this morning, one this afternoon.”
“You’re almost finished, though, right?”
She nodded. “I’ll have my B.S. in December. Assuming, of course, that I don’t screw up between now and then.”
He shook his head. “Not gonna happen. You’re focused and you’re fierce in that. You do what you set out to do. That’s one of the things I really like and admire about you. You’re not afraid to work hard and you don’t make excuses for yourself.”
Before she could respond to the compliment, he’d opened a container. “Looks like brown rice.” He opened another and sniffed. “And … beef in what smells like a wine sauce.”
She opened the large Styrofoam box. “Salad. Looks like enough for both of us.”
“Is this okay with you?” he asked.
“It’s perfect. Thanks, Jesse. This was a nice idea.”
“I’m glad you agreed. Otherwise, I’d be trolling for some fast food tonight.” He handed her the containers so she could serve herself.
“Is that your way of reminding me that I promised you a cookbook?” She glanced up and caught his eye as he moved his chair just a little closer to hers.
“That wasn’t subtle?”
“I’ll do better than that.” She spooned beef and rice onto her plate and handed the containers back to him. “I’ll bring the cookbook and the ingredients for something terrific and I’ll cook at your place.”
“That’s an offer I’d never refuse.” He smiled and she noticed that the closer she got, the deeper his dimples appeared.
Who could resist a man whose smile went all the way to his eyes and who had dimples? Especially a man who looked at her the way he was looking at her right that moment.
So why, she couldn’t help but wonder, hadn’t he asked her out? For a moment she felt something in common with all those guys who’d been turned down when they’d called her, as if the tables had suddenly been turned and she was looking at the situation from an unfamiliar perspective. But unlike the guys who’d asked her out and taken no for an answer, she wasn’t
going to shrug her shoulders and walk away. There was something between her and Jesse, something electric that hung in the air of the conference room, that dared her to come a little closer and drew her in.
“How about Saturday night?” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Unless, of course, you have other plans …”
“No plans. I’m all yours.” His voice was casual, friendly even, but when his eyes met hers, there was a hint of something dark and sultry there.
Her breath caught in her throat and she shifted in her seat. When their knees touched under the table, it was all she could do not to kick off her shoes and run her toes along the side of his calf. How, she mused, would he react if she did just that?
The temptation was greater than she’d imagined it would be, and she wished the notion had never occurred to her. Suddenly she couldn’t get the thought of touching him out of her mind.
“Brooke?” He waved a hand in front of her face slowly, slowly enough to hypnotize her.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I was just …”
He put his fork down and reached out for her, his hand at the nape of her neck, and drew her slowly to him. When his lips brushed against hers, she felt a jolt that shot all the way through her, and she knew she was in big trouble.
She dropped her fork and touched the side of his face, her hand lingering on his cheek. His mouth claimed her, his lips hungry on hers, his tongue tracing the corners of her mouth. She felt him in every fiber of her body, and when he pushed his chair back and pulled her onto his lap, she went willingly. His
tongue met hers through parted lips and the zing she’d felt when he first kissed her intensified. She held his face in her hands and kissed him in a way she’d thought she’d forgotten how to kiss. She felt as if she’d caught fire, the heat that moved through her burning hotter and hotter. She turned so that her body pressed closer to his, unable to stop herself, drawn into him by a force more powerful than either of them. When his mouth made its way down the side of her throat, she was barely aware that the “Yes, yes …” she heard murmured was coming from her. His hand slid up her thigh and she knew that a few more inches and she’d explode right there and then.
She wasn’t sure what to do next, it had been so long since she’d wanted so terribly, ached so deeply, for a man’s touch. His thumb moved farther up under her skirt and found its way under the thin silk of her thong. When his fingers brushed against her core she saw stars.
“Oh my God, Jesse,” she gasped as wave after wave of a pleasure close to pain coursed through her.