What a Woman Needs (18 page)

The cat let out a long, bothered,
“Mrrrrooooowwwww,”
making all of them laugh.

Good thing, because Bryan was about to do anything but.

A member of the family
. Was that how Maggie saw him? Was that how they all saw him? Well, the kids. Beth knew better. But what did she think of Maggie’s declaration?

He risked a glance at her.
Stricken
was the word that came to mind.

Oh, great. She was horrified. Upset. Not on board with the idea. Then again, he wasn’t, either. But the kids . . . This wasn’t good for the kids. They couldn’t think that about him.

He’d known letting himself get reeled in wasn’t a good idea, but he’d been able to handle it. The kids on the other hand . . . He had to do something about this.

 • • • 

B
RYAN
finished early.

Beth ought to be thankful about it. And she was. Sort of.

They needed to talk. What Maggie had said at lunch . . .

She couldn’t get the idea out of her head. And it was a bad idea. Bad for her kids to think it. Bad for her to
want
it. Bad because Bryan had looked as if someone had stuck a hot poker up his—

Out of the mouth of a five-year-old, and there was nothing Beth could do to undo it. And she
needed
to do something about it. Maggie had been distracted by Mrs. Beecham, and then Kelsey had wisely kept her occupied so she was out of Bryan’s hair, but her statement still hung over them.

A member of the family.

She’d never thought there’d be another man she’d even consider having in Mike’s home. In Mike’s bed. But Bryan, with his sexy good looks and the amazing way he kissed, and most of all the way he was with her kids—and with her, if the truth be told—he’d wiggled in under her defenses and made her want Maggie’s description to be true.

He’d said something about tackling the garage, and off he’d gone. Hadn’t even asked Jason to help, which they had discussed earlier. She’d been undecided as to whether to press the issue at the moment, but Jason had suddenly decided to keep his younger brothers entertained. Never getting that kind of attention from him, they’d lapped it up and the three of them were off devising a Quidditch field. Kelsey, too, had suddenly become interested in braiding Maggie’s hair, and the two of them had disappeared upstairs for the rest of the afternoon. Beth was almost afraid to see the mess in her bathroom once she heard the tub go on, but the mess that was hovering over the picnic table was enough for one day.

Her cell phone rang as she closed the front door after Bryan left. Silly her, her heart started pounding, thinking it was him. Though why he’d be calling her when he hadn’t spoken two words to her all afternoon was a mystery.

It was Kara Leopold, sadly. No,
gladly
. No sense wishing for what couldn’t—and shouldn’t—be. “Hey, Kar, what’s up?”

“Tomorrow night. You
have
to bring him. My nephew is coming. He wants to break into acting and if he could just talk to Bryan, he might have a shot.”

“Kar, I haven’t even asked him to come.” And wouldn’t now. “He might be busy.” Oh, he was busy. Whether he knew it or not.

“You are kidding me! You haven’t asked him? Why? Are you trying to keep him all to yourself? You don’t want anyone else around him?”

Beth held the phone from her ear and looked at it in surprise. Yes, that was Kara’s name on her caller ID, but the woman on the phone? Beth didn’t know who she was. “Are you crazy? Do you even hear yourself? I am not keeping Bryan Manley all to myself and I am
not
going to ask him to the happy hour so you can grill him about getting Dylan into the business. The man’s on a break from all that. He’s cleaning my house, for Pete’s sake.”

“And your pipes? Is he cleaning those?”

Beth’s mouth fell open and she shook her head. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating.
You
chose him for this job, not me. I had no say in the matter. Matter of fact, I distinctly remember you
and
Jenna both saying that if I refused your gift, you’d never speak to me again.” Right about now, that sounded pretty good.

“I just think it’s pretty selfish of you to keep him in your home all day and not let any of us hang out with him.”

“He’s not here to make friends, Kar. Here’s here to work, remember?”

“Yeah, well all work and no play makes Bryan a very bored guy. Bring him.”

No way in hell. She’d seen glimpses of the female feeding frenzies Bryan instilled; she wasn’t inflicting her friends on him. Who knows, the rest of them might end up as crazed as Kara and she’d end up with no friends. And no Bryan.

A member of the family
.

No. She wasn’t going to end up with that, either. And that was how it should be.

Y
OU
look awful pretty in green, Bryan. Matches your eyes.”

Bryan clenched his fists as he waited in the living room in Gran’s new assisted living facility. Sean loved needling him and while, most of the time, he could give as good as he got, tonight was
not
the night. “Don’t push it, Scene.” There. Let Sean stew on his old nickname. Always pissed him off when they were kids and, right now, Bryan wouldn’t mind someone picking a fight with him. He needed to work off this . . . this . . .

This what? Anger? No, he wasn’t angry. Terror? Yeah, that might be it.

Frustration
?

Hell yes. He was definitely frustrated.

And the damn uniform wasn’t helping any.

He picked up a copy of
People
and thumbed through it, but pictures of hot women in barely there dresses weren’t helping, either. None were as beautiful as Beth.

He tossed the magazine onto the table. “Seriously. How does Mac expect us to call ourselves
Manley Maids
when we’re wearing the most
un
-manly pants in the history of work uniforms? See? Now
that’s
a work uniform.”

It was the PR shot from his last movie, where he’d had bombs bursting behind him, a gun in each hand, and a woman clinging to each arm. Bikini-clad women. Back in the days when he
wasn’t
frustrated.

“Hey, I’m up for giving Mac the money for new uniforms.” Liam slapped Sean on the shoulder when he arrived. “I feel like a frickin’ girl in those clothes.”

“We could sing like one, too,” said Sean, adjusting himself. “Who the hell designed them?”

“I did.”

Oh shit. Gran.

“I take it there’s a problem?”

“I’m sorry, Gran,” said Sean. “We didn’t know—”

“I realize that, Sean. I know you boys would never deliberately hurt me.” She touched Bryan’s arm and he bent down to kiss her cheek, trying to undo some of the damage their comments must have done.

“The uniform’s fine, Gran,” he whispered. He’d put up with this thing if it meant not hurting her.

She raised an eyebrow at him, skepticism etched across her face. “So you boys tell me what needs to be done and I’ll work on another design.”

Bryan recognized that look. She was determined to fix it. And if one of them didn’t give her any direction, God only knew which direction she’d go.

He took a deep breath and took the plunge. At least he might get something good for the three of them if he spoke up now. “They’re a bit, uh, tight, Gran.”

“Tight, how?” Gran asked as if the answer wasn’t going to embarrass the hell out of all of them as she led them down the hall to a private dining area like the dame of the manor.

“You know, Gran,
tight.
” Bryan nodded to the residents they passed. Here, he was just Catherine Manley’s grandson and he liked that he could be just that. The bright lights were great, but sometimes, it was nice just to be him.

Liam held the door open for their grandmother and they followed her in like ducklings. Bryan hid his smile. His brothers used to call him the ugly one. That picture in
People
told a different story, and if his face and his body were the tickets to never having to worry about putting food on his table again, so be it.

“Sean, you bring the chicken over to the table. Liam, the potatoes. And Bryan, you can pour the wine. But not those Hollywood-sized drinks you’re used to. I don’t want any of you boys getting drunk.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He rolled his eyes.
Hollywood-sized
drinks. He’d tried to bring her out to the west coast a few times to show her it wasn’t the Sodom and Gomorrah she thought, but Gran wouldn’t hear of it.
She
wasn’t getting on a plane at her age and she could see Bryan better on TV than with hordes of people shoving microphones in his face.

He had her argument down pat because she’d said the same thing every time he’d broached the subject. Gran was content here in this little burg, a feeling he’d never understood.

Then an image of Beth and the kids at the soccer game flashed into his brain and for a moment—a moment as quick as that flash—he considered it.

No. No way. He’d worked too hard to get out. To move beyond. To move up. He wasn’t coming back here for his grandmother, let alone a widow with five kids.

Five kids who needed a dad.

A widow who needed a man in her life.

Jesus H. Christ. He wasn’t that man and he could put the damn thought out of his head. He had a film to start. Another one in the can. Promo tours. Awards ceremonies. Endorsements to consider. Things were finally happening; now was
not
the time to chuck it all for soccer games and finger painting.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man. You might think you know everything because you’re a big movie star, but I can still take my switch to your behind if you get too big for your britches.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Gran.” Bryan set her wine in front of her. “I
am
too big for those britches.”

“Bryan Matthew Manley, there’s no reason to be crude.”

Sean choked on his wine and Liam looked like he was going to as well.

Bryan just wanted to be sick. “I . . . I didn’t mean . . .” He had
not
meant anything of the sort; she was his
grandmother,
for God’s sake!—

And to add insult to injury, Sean took a picture of him with his cell.

“What the hell was that for?” Bryan was still trying to process Gran going with sexual innuendo.

“Insurance. Against poverty.” Sean sat down. “I’m sure some magazine would pay big bucks for that look on your pretty-boy face.”

“Sean Patrick Manley, you stop teasing your brother,” said Gran as if she hadn’t just been talking about . . .
that
. “Hand me that phone.”

“Aw, Gran—”

“The phone.” She wiggled her fingers.

Bryan got no small measure of satisfaction when Gran deleted the photo. He even had to hide the chuckle when she deleted the rest of Sean’s photos—accidentally of course, but still . . . it served him right.

What
didn’t
serve him right were the complications going on with his current project that some of those pictures related to—a project that had a lot of Bryan’s money tied up.

“What kind of complications?”

Sean winced. “Merriweather threw a slight wrench into the plans. She’s giving her granddaughter the chance to inherit the estate.”

“Son of a bitch.” Bry tossed his napkin onto the table. The estate was supposed to be Sean’s flagship property and the first of the Manley Brothers’ projects. They lost this and there wouldn’t be a second project.

“Language, Bryan.” Gran took a bite of chicken, those two words admonition enough. She’d always been able to get their attention with just a word or a look. They’d all been too worried over losing her to health problems to want to upset her.

“Sorry.” Bry put his napkin back on his lap. “What are you going to do, Sean?”

His brother swiped a hand across his mouth. “As I see it, I’ve got three options. One, make sure Livvy fails and the sale can proceed as planned. Two, I was going to ask you guys if you wanted to cover the difference. For commensurate ROI, of course.”

“So you’d be the minor partner, then?” Liam asked.

Sean nodded. “Obviously not what I wanted when I planned this, but we can work out the terms and I’ll gradually buy you out. If you can float the money, that’s my second option. The third would be to bring in outside investors, but that’ll dilute everyone’s take.”

“That option’s out.” Liam rubbed his chin. “This is supposed to be a Manley Brothers project. We bring someone else in, we lose that edge, both in calling the shots and the publicity.”

“But you have Bryan,” said Gran. “He’s the best publicity you could ask for.”

Bryan shook his head. Three weeks ago, he might have said yes. Now? He was not going to be responsible—well, any more than he already was—for bringing the spotlight on Beth and her kids. And that’s just what would happen if he got publicly involved in a local business. “No go, Gran. I’m the silent partner. I don’t have the background these two do for this business. We start plastering my face all over this and it’ll become a circus. The media’s great until it isn’t. Sean’s got what I can afford.” Not to mention, he wasn’t about to involve Beth and the kids any more than they already were.

“So how are your assignments coming, boys?” Gran asked.

“How’s it going?” Bryan choked on the words before he thought about the consequences of saying them. Consequences he quickly tried to mitigate when Gran looked at him sharply. “I seriously have no idea why people procreate. You ought to see these five kids. I get the place all clean and nice, and by the time I’ve finished the last room, I have to start all over again. It’s like each kid is their own tornado. Inversely proportional to their size, too. That little one . . .
whew
. She can create a mess of epic proportions.”

“She’s hurting, Bryan. Acting out. Have patience,” said Gran. “Her father was the pilot of that plane crash a few years ago. Sad.”

So much sadder than anyone had realized. And given what’d happened to
his
parents, Bryan was in the perfect position to empathize, hence his
issues
.

He cut a slice of bread. “I know
exactly
what she’s feeling, Gran.”

“I know you do.”

Gran squeezed his hand and for a moment, he was back in the church the day of the funeral when she’d done the same thing before he’d broken down completely.

And just like then, she changed the subject. “Liam? How’s Cassidy?”

Liam shook his head. “She’s Cassidy.”

“Now, Liam, don’t judge her by what everyone says about her.”

That she was a spoiled socialite without one iota of a clue how to live a normal life since her rich father paid for everything. Airhead Central.

The thing was, it’d be easier to deal with Cassidy Davenport and her cluelessness than Beth and her down-to-earth-ness. Her realness. And the kids . . . God, the kids. The fact that he knew what they were going through . . . Why’d Mac had to give him
this
assignment? Why couldn’t he have gotten some old woman with fifty years’ worth of cobwebs and dust bunnies to deal with? Or, hell, even Cassidy. He’d take Cassidy any day over wanting Beth so much that his chest hurt when he thought about it.

And he was thinking about it a lot. Missed half the dinner conversation thinking about wanting Beth. Christ. He was a mess. He took a swig of his wine. He really needed to get out while he could. “So what do you think about switching, Sean?”

Sean shook his head. “I’m sorry, what’d you say?”

“Your assignment. She must be a babe if you haven’t even told us word one about her. I’m thinking I might have to check her out if you’re not calling dibs on her. Maybe we can switch jobs.” As soon as he said it, he knew he wouldn’t do it. Sean might not be in movies, but he was a good-looking guy. And local. Beth and the kids could get attached to Sean as much as they’d get attached to him.

“You have your own client to deal with.”

Gran drilled him with her gaze. People called her eyes slate blue; Bryan called them steel. His grandmother was made of stern stuff and she didn’t miss a trick. It’d made it tough to get away with shit when he’d been a kid and it looked like things hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. “And she’s quite lovely if I remember correctly from the newspaper.”

The newspapers hadn’t done Beth justice. “Yeah, she’s hot, but she’s got five kids. Nothing destroys a woman’s attractiveness faster than a bunch of kids hanging around.” He was lying. Beth could have ten kids and it wouldn’t change how he felt about her, so who was he trying to convince?

His brothers. Because if they had even an inkling of the struggle he was facing when it came to Beth and her family, he’d never hear the end of it.

“Ahem.” Gran drilled him with her eyes. Her hard, cold, steel blue eyes.

Why?

Oh shit
. Gran had raised four kids and he’d just made that stupid remark. . . “I’m, uh, sorry, Gran. I, uh—”

Gran lifted her hand. “I raised you better than that, Bryan Matthew. That woman has a lot to offer someone, and those children are blessings. You should be so lucky to have her even
think
about going out with you. With comments like that, you don’t deserve her.”

He knew that. He didn’t deserve her. And more importantly, she deserved better.

So then why, a few hours later when he’d survived the dinner with eagle-eyed Gran, did he jump at the chance to spend Friday night with her when her friend Kara called to invite him to the neighborhood happy hour?

Because he was obviously a glutton for punishment.