gaze widened. “Date?”
Lisa pasted a smile on her face and eased her hand from Brick’s. “Mark Lawford, this is Brick Pendleton. He’s a—a—”
Both men gazed at her expectantly.
“He’s a demolition expert,” she finished weakly.
Brick stared at Lisa in disbelief.
“Well, how about that,” Mark said, extending his hand. “You blow up buildings for a living?”
Brick tore his gaze away from Lisa and shook Mark’s hand. “Not really. I used to do more work blasting foundations,” he said, still blindsided by how Lisa had described him. Demolition expert. Not ex-lover, friend or the man who knew every inch of her body. He took a slow, deep breath. Brick prided himself on his great sense of humor, but his grin felt a little forced by the time he got to it. “I only use explosives every now and then. Most of my work is done with machinery.”
“That must be something. Hey, you want to join us? I’ll buy you a drink, and you can tell us some of your war stories.”
Brick slid a glance over to Lisa. She gave a quick, desperate shake of her head. He hesitated. If he were a nice, polite guy, he’d excuse himself, but he wasn’t feeling particularly polite right now. He slid into a chair directly opposite Lisa. “Sounds good to me. I’ll take a beer and tell you as many stories as you want.”
Over the next hour, Brick shared a few tales with Mark and Lisa. He noticed that Lisa avoided his gaze, and every time she did, he struggled with the perverse urge to do something to get her attention. Brick couldn’t see Lisa getting serious about Mark, but, then, he couldn’t see Lisa getting serious about anyone but himself. And he refused to consider the prospect of another man in her bed.
He shifted slightly and his knee bumped hers. She drew back and dodged his gaze again. Brick felt a lick of impatience and sipped his beer. “So what movie did y’all go see?”
Mark named an action flick, and Lisa toyed with her watch. She was doing her best to ignore him, and Brick was tired of being ignored. “Did you close your eyes during the shoot-out scenes?” he gently teased her.
If he’d been sitting beside her, he would have squeezed her waist. Instead, he extended his feet on either side of hers and put them just close enough to make her aware of him. Her startled gaze finally shot up to meet his.
Lisa struggled to disentangle her bare legs from his. The brush of denim and the strength and warmth of his knees capturing hers sent a chaotic heat pulsing through her bloodstream. “I kept my eyes open except for two times,” she admitted, glaring at him when she freed her legs.
Mark glanced from Brick to Lisa quizzically. “You never told me how you two met.”
Trying to salvage what she could of this disastrous date, Lisa forced a smile and said casually, “As a matter of fact, we met here about nine months ago.” She shot Brick a warning look.
Brick’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Nine months and twenty-three days,” he corrected. “And that was just the beginning.”
Chapter Two
“He’s kinda scrawny,” Brick said forty-five minutes later when Lisa jerked open her door.
“Everyone looks scrawny to you,” she retorted, completely exasperated. Back at the bar Mark Lawford had picked up on Brick’s tone and looked at Lisa with questions just waiting to be asked. Lisa had been so embarrassed, she didn’t have a prayer of forming an adequate response. She wasn’t pleased with the sense of relief she’d felt when Mark hadn’t kissed her good night. She wasn’t pleased that her first date “with a goal” had ended so disastrously. And she wasn’t pleased that she didn’t know who she was more angry with, Brick or herself.
She would never have let him in except that he claimed to have her address book, and when she’d checked her purse, sure enough, she’d found it missing. Her address book was one of the keys to her search for a husband. In the wrong hands, the information it contained would be humiliating. Lisa held out her hand. “Where’s my address book?”
“In a minute,” he promised. “Let’s have a drink and a little conversation first.” He strolled past her into the small den.
Lisa’s grip tightened on the door, and she closed her eyes in frustration. She’d done pretty well in her quest to get past Brick and start looking for the future father of her children, until she’d run into her former lover. Former lover. The thought caused her stomach to tighten.
Lisa slammed the door mentally and physically. Determined to get rid of Brick, she whipped around and went into the den. “I’m not going to offer you a drink,” she said through gritted teeth to the man who lounged on her sofa. “I’m going to ask for my address book, thank you, escort you to the door and say good night. That’s the program. Got it?”
Brick locked gazes with her for a long moment. After seeming to measure her determination, he frowned and pulled the small paisley cloth-covered book from his pocket. He stood. “What are three stars for?”
Humiliation crowded her chest. Lisa felt her cheeks burn with heat. She snatched the book from his hand. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Oh, but I do worry about you.” Brick took a step closer and looked down at her. “I wonder if you’re trying to cater too many parties. I wonder if you’re forgetting to eat dinner. I wonder if you’re working so hard that you forget to have fun.”
Lisa tried not to let his concern soften her resolve. “I ate dinner tonight, and I was having fun with Mark.”
Based on his expression of disbelief, Brick must have guessed that last comment was a stretch, but he let it pass. “I wonder if you’ve backed into something this week.”
Lisa pressed her lips together. The man knew entirely too much about her, even her little problem with backing into things with her car. Just that morning she’d barely missed a mailbox. “Not a thing.”
He paused and his face was utterly sincere. “Ever since you kicked me out of your apartment after making love to me like a wild woman—”
The reminder murmured in his low, husky voice singed her from head to toe. Taking a deep breath, Lisa stepped back. “I did not kick you out. It wasn’t as if we lived together or anything.”
He moved closer and lifted a strand of her hair. “Then what would you call it?”
“I—I—” She swallowed over her fumbling tongue. His nearness affected her as if she’d risen too fast after deep-sea diving. His gaze roamed over her from head to toe. He wanted to touch her everywhere he’d looked, she realized. Her body melted. “I invited you to leave,” she managed in a strained voice.
He lifted an eyebrow and twined his fingers through her hair. “Next time,” he said quietly, “I guess I’ll have to turn down that invitation.”
His thumb grazed the soft curve of her jaw, and Lisa had to resist the urge to turn her face into his wide palm. “Next time I won’t invite. Next time I’ll—”
He pressed his thumb over her lips, halting her threat. “I’ve missed
