he’d kissed Olivia. He was used to being the smartest guy in the room, but what he’d done was colossally dumb. In fact it set a new and higher bar for dumbness. Thanks to probably the hottest kiss he’d ever had, it made him completely aware of his executive assistant in every way. Not only that, he couldn’t stop thinking about how easy and natural it would have been to sweep her upstairs and into his bed. And he was still regretting that he hadn’t, because there was no doubt in his mind that she’d have gone with him.
Since the day he’d hired her, he’d always been able to close off these thoughts, but kissing her opened the door and there was no way to shove the messy flood of feelings back inside. So he needed a distraction.
“And I know just the thing.”
He turned off the main road into Maggie’s driveway and up to the three-story log cabin set in a clearing surrounded by evergreen trees. The yard in front had grass bordered by bushes and flowers, which were not blooming in January. This place was like something out of a fairy tale and any second he expected the seven dwarfs to march out of the woods singing “Hi Ho.”
Brady exited the low-slung sports car then jogged up the steps and knocked. A few seconds later the dead bolt clicked.
Maggie opened the door. “Hello, Uncle Brady.”
“Ba-ay!” His niece, pretty in pink from head to toe, toddled over and grabbed her mother’s leg.
“If it isn’t Snow White and the littlest dwarf, Sunshine.” He grabbed up the little girl and lifted her high in the air, where she giggled happily. “How are my two favorite girls?”
“Don’t let Mom hear you say that.”
“She knows I put her into a completely different category.”
“Right.” Maggie grinned. “You’re still her favorite.”
“And you’re still bitter about that.” He settled Danielle on his forearm and moved farther into the room.
“Always.”
His sister was a beautiful woman, and that was a strictly impartial male observation. Shiny brown hair fell past her shoulders to the middle of her back and her eyes, depending on her mood, were warm like dark cocoa or cool and shaded like smooth brandy. For nearly two years they’d been more like the latter. Any man would be lucky to have her, but the one who’d won her heart had died almost two years ago while bravely serving his country in Afghanistan. Now his two favorite girls were alone.
“You’re here earlier than expected. Want a beer?”
“Love one.” When Danielle wiggled to get down, Brady set her on the wooden floor in the big, open great room. “I’m here early because I missed you guys.”
Maggie walked around a kitchen island big enough to land a helicopter before stopping in front of the refrigerator. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “What’s wrong, Brady?”
“Nothing.” No way he was that easy to read. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“You look funny.” Maggie set his beer on a coaster on the coffee table. “Everything okay at work?”
“Fine.” If you didn’t factor in him kissing Olivia.
He sat down on the earth-tone woven area rug that covered the middle of the room to play with his niece. Danielle pulled over a wicker toy basket filled with dolls, stuffed animals and fat play figures that fit in her tiny hands. Chattering to herself in a language only she knew, she started unloading her toys one at a time into his lap.
“How are you?” he asked his sister.
“Good. I’m thinking of expanding the ice-cream parlor into the available business space next door. Make it a sandwich shop. With homemade soup. Quiche. Salads made with organic greens. Free-range chicken and grass-fed beef.”
Brady held still while his niece crawled onto his thigh and threw a teddy bear out of her way to make room. When she was settled, he braced a hand on her back for stability.
“Are you going to have hamburgers?”
“Hadn’t considered it.” Maggie sat on the dark-colored sofa and thought for a moment. “Maybe veggie and turkey.”
“You don’t want it too girly. You want your marketing window open wide. Don’t turn off the guys with too much chick food.”
“Good point.” She smiled fondly at her daughter, who’d pulled a pink feather boa from the bottom of the toy basket and was doing her best to wrap it around Brady’s neck. “Speaking of girly...”
“Don’t you dare take a picture. No way this leaves your house,” he warned.
“Serves you right for buying it.”
“I couldn’t come home from that San Francisco trip empty-handed.”
“Danielle wouldn’t know the difference.”
“She’s smarter than you think. She would know Uncle Brady went away and didn’t bring her something.” He smiled at the solemn concentration on the little girl’s face. “Besides, I’m all about retail bribery to secure her affections.”
Maggie beamed at him. “You would be a terrific father, Brady.”
“Why? Because I spoil your child?”
“No. Although that’s important, too.” Her expression turned tender. “Just spending a lot of time with her like you do means so much. Every little girl needs a positive male role model in her life so she knows what to look for when she grows up.” Her eyes took on the familiar sadness. “You should have a bunch of kids to fill up that obscenely big house of yours.”
“Not likely,” he said.
“Surely you have women throwing themselves at you. You’re okay-looking if one can ignore those ears.”
Brady threw a foam-rubber pink ball in her direction. “Funny.”
“Seriously, you’re rich and handsome. A pretty good personality. And, quite frankly, you’re getting to the age where people are beginning to wonder and ask questions.”
Folks in Blackwater Lake gossiped about anything and everything anyway. But Maggie meant something more. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re not getting any younger, and inquiring minds want to know if you’re gay. Or if there’s some dark and twisted reason for you not getting married and having children.”
“I don’t need to explain. Let’s just call it highly unlikely.”
“But why?” Maggie persisted.
“It’s not complicated.” He watched his niece totter over to pick up the ball and then put it in her mouth. “I’m just not a falling-in-love kind of guy.”
And that was the primary reason to acknowledge his not-just-business awareness of Olivia Lawson all these years. Hurting her wasn’t an option—and that’s what would happen if he started something
