cry.
“That doesn’t mean I caused the stress. Joe gets the lion’s share of the credit for that. Or it could have been brought on by the heat.” Genna frowned, wondering why the hell she was always to blame for everything when she was the least of the contributors. When did she get to stop paying for her brother’s choices? And when the hell would someone trust her to run her own life?
Trying for patience, she smiled through gritted teeth. “Macy, my mom is a hypochondriac. Even the doctor says so. My brother was on a collision course with himself.”
And Genna had paid, and paid and paid and paid, for that night. As horrible as she felt about Joe’s choices, about what’d finally happened to him, she was tired of paying.
“It’s no big deal. Seriously, don’t get all weirded out.” Genna wanted to check her lipstick, but figured primping would negate her entire pitch. “Brody is staying at his gramma’s while he recovers, so he’s living across the alley and we’ve run into each other a few times. Partially because the mayor wants to do an event for him. Hero’s welcome and all that.”
Something Brody had no interest in. Still, Genna had started putting together tentative ideas, in case she changed his mind. After all, he was a hero and maybe if he saw how much the town appreciated his service, he’d have a different opinion of Bedford. And of the idea of visiting here more often after he’d gone back on duty.
And maybe after seeing Brody praised and paraded, everyone would see what a great guy he was. A much better guy than someone like, oh, say Stewart.
“It’s really no big deal,” she said again. This time as much to convince herself as Macy.
“You’re going on a date. For Valentine’s Day.”
“We’re going to dinner. On a Tuesday,” Genna corrected, checking her purse for necessities. “Valentine’s isn’t until Friday.”
Lipstick, keys, license and credit card, condom, twenty-dollar bill, cell phone.
Looked as if she was all set.
“Hey, there’s nothing between us. We’re friends. That’s it. That’s all he wants.” She met Macy’s eyes and straight up lied. “And that’s all I want.”
“Fine.” Macy huffed, then handed Genna the black leather gloves and wool jacket from the chair, as if covering her as much as possible before she went downstairs was going to keep her virtue intact. “When’s he leaving?”
Leaving? The thought was like a jagged knife ripping through her gut. She hated thinking about life without Brody.
“He’s going to Coronado four times a week for physical therapy now, so I’d imagine he’ll be back to full use of his leg before the end of the month.” She gave Macy a big smile all the brighter for being fake. “So he should be back on duty in two weeks.”
A smart girl would start steeling her heart against the end. A smarter girl would cut things off now, before her emotions got tangled any tighter.
Genna was smart.
Damned smart.
Smart enough to know that she was already in too deep. She had been for years. She was smart enough to know that nothing was going to make the heartbreak of Brody leaving any easier to take. So she was going to get every second of pleasure, of fun and of anything else she could from these couple of weeks together.
And she didn’t care if it took her thirteen of her fourteen days. At some point before he left to play hero again, she was getting him naked and naughty.
Right on cue, the doorbell rang.
“Don’t you have something to print?” she asked, hurrying around her friend and heading for the stairs. “Go ahead, take your time. Lock up when you leave.”
Never one to take a hint, Macy followed her right down the stairs and stood there like a grumpy rain cloud, waiting for Genna to open the door.
Trying to ignore her, Genna tossed her coat over the hall bench, took a deep breath, put on a big smile and opened the door.
And almost melted as the chilly evening air washed over her. Oh, he looked good. Black slacks and dress shirt suited his bad-boy image and fit to perfection. So used to seeing him in jeans or sweats and a tee, she had to swallow a couple of times to keep from drooling.
“Hi,” she finally said.
“Hey. You look nice.” His tone was light and friendly, but his eyes were hot as they swept over her body, leaving the kind of tingles that led to tight nipples, damp panties and, hopefully, multiple orgasms.
Yes. Genna wanted to do a happy dance right there in the doorway. Finally, he was looking at her as something other than a friendly cookie machine.
Maybe they could skip dinner and get right to dessert.
The loud cough behind her burst the sexual bubble as effectively as an icy cold blast from the hose.
Brody looked over her shoulder. She followed his gaze and sighed.
“Brody, this is my friend Macy. She was just leaving,” Genna said pointedly.
“Hi,” Brody offered with a polite nod.
Looking distant, as if she were holding her breath in case he was carrying a bad case of cooties, Macy gave a jerky nod.
Brody glanced at Genna, who just rolled her eyes and gestured him inside.
“You look great,” she said as the door closed behind him. Her fingers itched to straighten his collar, to feel the fabric of his shirt and see if it was as soft as it looked. “I didn’t realize you had fancy clothes with you.”
“I stopped by barracks after physical therapy today.”
Brody shifted from foot to foot, almost as if he’d rather be in front of a firing squad. Whether that preference was over what he was wearing, his visit to his barracks or this evening’s plans was up in the air.
“You sure you want to go into San Diego? We can eat someplace here in town instead. That way you don’t have to drive,” he said, referring to the fact that while he’d come back on his Harley after his last physical therapy session, he didn’t have a car.
Nope. Dinner in San Diego was more romantic. A drive would give them time to talk. And if they stayed here, people would see. Then they’d talk. Her father would hear and things would get ugly. Worse, her mother would hear and head straight for the hospital.
“Good question. You should eat in town. I hear Ziapatta’s is serving lasagna tonight,” Macy broke in. Stepping forward, she started reciting the menu as if her life—or Genna’s virtue—depended on convincing Brody to eat there.
Genna scowled. The woman couldn’t say hello, but she saw a chance to ruin the night and she turned into a chatterbox.
“We have reservations,” Genna interrupted smoothly. “And I don’t want Italian food.”
She wanted her date, dammit.
