offer, but I think I’ll stay here tonight.”
Carly frowned in concern. “Business okay?”
“Booming,” Brick said.
She exchanged a sidelong glance with Russ. “Anything else bothering you?”
Brick shrugged. “Nothing that a few more beers and a shower won’t cure.”
“What’s her name?” Russ asked.
Brick stopped midmotion in lifting the can to his lips, then set it down on the table. He didn’t look at Carly or Russ. He knew what he would see. Russ would be wearing that probing, no-nonsense, give-me-some-answers expression, and Carly would look worried. And Brick had thought he’d fooled them all. “It’s no big deal. It’s all over, anyway.”
“If it’s no big deal, then why have you been here five of the last six weekends?”
That stung. Brick tried to shake it off and forced a grin. “Hey, if I’ve been imposing, you should let me know. I’m sleeping all the way over on the opposite side of the house, so I’ve only heard you scream once or twice.”
His younger sister didn’t blush. She rolled her eyes. “I knew we wouldn’t get a straight answer from you. The CIA could take lessons from you on how to keep from disclosing secrets. You must not have been too serious about her, or you would have brought her down here for us to meet.”
Brick rubbed his finger in the condensation on the can. “Why would I do that?”
She looked at him with ill-concealed impatience. “Because that’s the normal thing to do. When you really care about a woman, you want her to meet your adorable younger sister and all six of your brothers. You don’t just want her to meet them. You want her to like them.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she didn’t want to meet my family.”
Silence hung heavy in the room, and Brick looked up to meet his sister’s gaze. “And maybe I waited until it was too late.”
The next day Brick returned to Chattanooga with Russ’s words ringing in his ears: “Too late is when she’s got somebody else’s wedding band on her finger.”
He hadn’t ever spent much time thinking about why he didn’t want to get married, because it was one of those things that he had decided when he was twelve years old. His mother had died, and his father might as well have. For the sake of the kids he’d remarried a sour woman who’d grown more sour because his father couldn’t love her.
Carly had spent a year stuttering, his oldest brother, Daniel, had become an old man before his time. His stepmother had nearly ruined Garth. Brick had watched his family flounder, and in the middle of it all, he had felt lost.
His mother had been the silken thread of joy that had bound them all together. He’d been angry that she’d left them. His anger had turned to fear when he watched what her death did to his father. All this, Brick realized, because his father had loved his mother too much. It was a knowledge that seemed to spring from his very soul.
At the idea of marriage, Brick experienced a physical and visceral response. His skin grew clammy, his mouth went dry and he felt as if he were going to throw up. Even now, as he drove into Chattanooga, he felt it, the powerful edginess that went beyond simple aversion. In the past he’d always put it down to exceptional male survival instincts.
Since two of his brothers and his sister, Carly, had taken the plunge and gotten married, though, he was forced to reevaluate. Daniel had been acting like a kid out of school since he’d married Sara Kingston a few months earlier. Brick never would have believed it, but since Garth had hooked Erin Lindsey, he was happier than Brick could have imagined. And Carly seemed utterly content in her marriage to Russ.
But Brick thought of a friend who worked in construction. The guy used to work the high beams until one day when he fell. After that, Brick’s friend told him that even the thought of going up again made him break into a cold sweat.
For a sliver of a moment, Brick wondered if a man could develop the same clinical kind of fear of marriage. Uneasiness trickled in. Brick snorted in disbelief. A phobia about marriage? Get real. What would they call it?
Ten minutes later, he was cruising the parking lot of Lisa’s apartment complex. After noting that her car was there, he parked and rang her doorbell. It was a warm day, so he decided to check the pool too. He knew Lisa usually took a break from working on Sunday afternoon.
She was stretched out on a chaise longue, slathering sunscreen all over her nearly bare body. Her hair was loosely piled on top of her head, and a huge pair of sunglasses with white frames was sliding down her nose. She wore a purple one-piece bathing suit with flowers all over it and skinny little straps holding up the delectably filled bodice. It was cut low enough in front and high enough on the thighs that Brick could have used some aspirin to bring down the sudden surge of his body temperature. His mouth watered just looking at her. Didn’t women realize that one of most men’s top ten fantasies usually involved taking off a woman’s bathing suit, lathering her down with something slippery, then having her return the favor to him?
He dipped his hand into the pool, splashed some water on his face, and walked toward her. He shook his head. One look, he thought, and she’d turned him inside out.
“Need some help,” he offered.
Lisa’s head whipped around.
He saw a spark of recognition and excitement flicker through her eyes just before she shoved the glasses back into place. Hoping like hell he didn’t screw up, he pulled a chair closer and sat down.
“No. I’m about done.” She smoothed the cream over her shoulders one last time.
Brick noticed a dot of unspread lotion on the inside of her left breast and felt a ridiculous envy for her suntan lotion. He hadn’t touched her intimately in over a month. “You missed a spot.”
Lisa glanced down the front of her, her sunglasses slipping again. “Where?”
Brick lowered his voice. “Where you used to let me touch you.”
Lisa went completely still. Her gaze automatically went to her thighs, and then to Brick. A memory taunted her of his hands caressing and teasing her until she arched against him, and his hard legs brushing against her softer ones as he slowly slid inside her… With devastating speed, she felt the beginning of her body’s automatic response. She bit the inside of her cheek. Edgy, she sucked in a deep breath and crammed her sunglasses back up again. “Oh for Pete’s sake! Where is it?”
Before she could blink, he put one index finger on her breast and gently spread the dot of lotion. One second, she felt the sensuous stroke of his finger and was struck by the fascination his heavy-lidded gaze didn’t hide. Then his hand was gone, and she was trying to get her brain to work.
“I wouldn’t want you to get burned.”
Lisa cleared her throat. She pushed down the cap on the lotion and tossed it into her tote bag. “No, I, uh, wouldn’t—what are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Just got back from Beulah County and thought I’d see how your—” He paused, wondering what to call it. “—search is going?”
She eased
