Knowing You (7 page)

Still, it wasn't her business. Not anymore. For years, she'd loved him. Secretly planned a future with him that included the proverbial white picket fence, two-point-five children, and the family dog. She'd nourished those dreams and counted on them more than even she'd realized. Until the night her dreams shattered and lay in jagged shards at her feet.

Until the night two years ago when she'd gone to Nick's apartment unexpectedly and found him doing the horizontal tango with an NFL cheerleader. She'd picked up a lamp, tossed it at his head—and missed, unfortunately—and walked out. Then, just like that, she was alone again. At least, in her heart. Her mind. Surrounded by people she loved, yet alone because the one man she'd believed loved her had ripped her heart out of her chest and stomped on it.

She'd lost her dreams. She'd lost her pride. And she'd lost the man she'd thought Nick was.

Her stomach fisted just at the memory of that particular humiliation. For a while she'd hated him, but then that had passed, too. Finally. She could actually look at Nick these days without wanting to either hug him or hit him. She still cared, of course. She didn't want him to go out and get run over by an 18-wheeler or anything. But she didn't
care
care.

Which was a good thing, considering she'd just had the best sex of her life with the man's brother. Oh God, no comparisons. Please.

Jerry Springer reared his ugly head again.

“Have you seen Tony?”

“Many times.”

“Please,” Nick said in a near whisper, “no jokes. In a battle of wits, today I am unarmed.”

Stevie set the coffeepot back onto its burner, then turned and leaned against the counter, folding her arms in front of her. “Okay, then no. I haven't seen Tony this morning.”

“Damn it.” He took another drink of coffee and seemed to sit up just a bit straighter. The gift of caffeine once again to the rescue. “I checked at his office before coming here. He must still be at home.”

“Probably.”

His gaze met hers. “Have you seen Paul?”

“Why would I see Paul?” Jesus! She leaped up and away from the counter as if she'd been burned. Was it stamped on her forehead? Did she have the words
Paul Was Here
branded on her chest? “Paul hasn't been here. Why would he be? I mean, he doesn't live anywhere near here and—”

“Okay,” Nick interrupted, raising his voice enough to make him groan. “Christ. I was just wondering if you'd seen him. Thought maybe he could figure out what the hell Tony did to my car.”

“Tony. So all you really need is to talk to Tony.”

“What I need is three hundred aspirin and a Bloody Mary in a blender.”

Suddenly irritated—both with Nick and with herself for coming so unglued at the mention of Paul's name—Stevie leaned in close to him. Then checking to make sure none of the local gossips could overhear her,
she snapped, “What you
need
is to work out whatever's turning you into the town drunk. It ain't pretty.”

“Thanks for kicking me while I'm down.”

“Hey, you want flattery, call a cheerleader.”

“Please,” Nick said, groaning, “I beg you to shut up. If I ever meant anything to you, please stuff a sock in it.”

He had meant something to her once. In fact, he'd meant everything. At least, she'd thought he had. So she did back up and leave him alone. For old times' sake. And because after last night … she couldn't be Nick's life preserver anymore.

CHAPTER FIVE

T
WO DAYS CRAWLED BY
and Stevie was getting crankier by the minute.

Which didn't make the least amount of sense. For God's sake, it's not like she was sitting around waiting for Paul to call. She didn't
want
him to call. She only wanted him to come over and—

Okay, back up
.

She didn't want that, either—in her more rational moments. But when her brain went to sleep and her body started screaming, Stevie wanted him bad. Any way she could get him.

Which was
so
not a good thing.

Carrying another box of muffins, cookies, and scones out to where her car was parked behind the shop, she went over all of the reasons why she should never see Paul Candellano naked again.

“One,” she muttered, hefting the box into the trunk and shoving two others out of her way, “he's a Candellano, God help me.” The cellophane wrap covering the
top of the box fluttered at a corner and Stevie straightened it. “The Candellanos are your only
family
, Stevie,” she went on, and made her voice stern so she would listen to herself. “You think they'll be happy about you going from Nick to Paul? You can't bounce from brother to brother, for the love of God. Hell, Beth'll lock Tony in a closet for safekeeping.”

She groaned and straightened up. Scooping her hair back from her face, she took an extra second to slap her forehead with the heel of her hand. This was all just so …
tacky
.

True, she hadn't been involved with Nick in more than two years. But once upon a time, they'd been an item. She'd been so sure that Nick was the one man in the world for her. She'd imagined them married, with kids, living in Chandler, having dinner every Sunday at Nick's mom's—only then Stevie would have been an
official
member of the family.

And it had all been so real. So clear to her that she'd never noticed that the Nick she was dreaming about and the
actual
Nick were two completely different guys.

How many times over the years had she cried on Paul's shoulder about something Nick had done or said? And now she'd gone from crying on that shoulder to
biting
that shoulder and—she closed her eyes. “Okay, hyperventilating probably won't help.”

She slapped one hand to her chest and took several long, deep breaths. Her heart rate slowed down and her breathing evened out, but nothing else had changed. Stevie was still sitting in the middle of a potential catastrophe.

What if Mama and the others found out about her
and Paul? Stevie swallowed back the knot of anxiety lodged in her throat and held on to the raised trunk lid to keep from swaying unsteadily.

Mama Candellano had always welcomed her, and the woman had been delighted when Nick and Stevie had become a couple. Eventually, Mama, too, had dreamed about Stevie and Nick getting married and making some beautiful grandchildren for her. And when it had ended between her and Nick, Mama had still made sure that Stevie remained a part of the family. Stevie thumped her forehead against the raised trunk and closed her eyes.

Just last year, Mama had hinted that she thought Stevie was Nick's one chance at stability. At making a U-turn on his fast-living road. Mama'd counted on Stevie's loyalty and her long-standing affection to save Nick from himself. But it hadn't worked out that way.

Stevie couldn't save him. Nobody could. That would have to come from Nick. Instead, she'd chosen to save herself, by leaving Nick and standing on her own two feet. Mama had said she understood—but Stevie had the feeling that the older woman was still waiting patiently for Stevie and Nick to get back together.

What would Mama say if she knew that not only was that
not
going to happen … but Stevie was now with Paul? Would Mama think her some kind of tramp for skipping from one brother to the next?

“Yes. Of course she would.” God, Mama would give her “the look.” That look that left a burning ache in Stevie's chest and an emptiness in her heart. The look that said Mama was disappointed in her.

They'd all hate her. They'd have to. What family
wouldn't? Heck, if she didn't know herself better,
she'd
hate her, too. This was all so … sleazy somehow. Stevie rolled her shoulders and winced. She'd never thought of herself as sleazy, and yet … if the Scarlet Letter fit …

Plus, she knew darn well, if it came down to choosing sides and picking either Stevie or Nick and Paul … she'd be on the outside looking in. The Candellanos would close ranks and she'd lose the only family she'd ever known.

She'd be alone again.

Every cold, lonely corner of her heart suddenly ached fiercely.

“Are you going to lose it all because of an attack of hormones?” she muttered, and slammed the trunk shut. Metal crashed against metal and she absent-mindedly patted her car in silent apology. “No. No, I'm not.”

She never should have let that night with Paul get so out of control. Heck, she still wasn't exactly sure how it had all happened. All she knew for certain was that she'd like to have it happen again.
If
there were no consequences. If no one would be hurt. If beggars could ride. If wishes came true.

No chance of that.

So no chance of reliving that sense of magic.

And knowing that was enough to make her nuts. Especially in the middle of the night, when there was only her heartbeat in her house. When the only sounds of life were the voices coming from the television that she routinely left on for company. When she lay there in her bed, feeling more alone than anyone should have
to be. When the thought of Paul touching her was enough to light backfires in her bloodstream.

That was her only problem.

If she could just avoid nighttime, she'd be good.

Except of course for times like now … when it was broad daylight and all she could think of was Paul.

“Damn it.” Disgusted, she walked to the driver's-side door, opened it, and climbed in. Firing up the engine of her trusty red Blazer, Stevie pushed thoughts of naked Paul out of her mind and concentrated on getting to the local shelter in one piece.

*   *   *

He was doing the right thing.

That was important.

It was, in fact, one of the main rules Paul lived by. Do the right thing. Maybe that made him some kind of Boy Scout or something, but it had always seemed like the smart thing to do. Not to mention the easiest.

When you started lying and creating all kinds of diversions to get you out of whatever you should have been doing in the first place, it became a real time waster.

“So why,” he asked himself, staring out the second-story window of his office, “isn't it easier?”

For two days he'd buried himself in work. Shutting himself up in the office, he'd had his secretary hold all calls and he'd simply dived into the new program design project he'd been working on for months. Work had always been his great escape. His brother Nick had the football field and Paul had computers. Algorithms. Numbers. What bored most people to tears fascinated Paul. Always had.

He'd discovered a long time ago that he was good at design. Good at finding new and better ways to do things. He held the copyright on several programs, everything from games to radar-tracking software.

But for the first time in his life, the work wasn't holding his interest. Not even his latest baby, the program he was developing for the government to help them track satellite movements with more accuracy. Ordinarily, he'd be hip-deep in facts and figures and projections.

But right now, he couldn't care less.

Bracing both hands on the wide windowsill, Paul stared out at the parklike view stretching out below him. But he barely saw the cypress trees, the oaks, or the rolling greenbelt, the function of which was to disguise the fact that the office building was in an industrial park. The pastoral view was supposed to ease stress, to make the surroundings more conducive to creativity.

But it couldn't help when the man staring at it wasn't seeing the greenery here, but was instead staring at a spot more than fifteen miles away. In his mind's eye, he saw a tiny shop squatting on the Main Street of Chandler.

His fingers curled tight around the painted sill and squeezed the wood as if he were trying to snap it in two. Ever since he had made the decision to get Stevie out of his mind and life, she'd been in it deeper than ever.

Hell, she'd even invaded his sanctuary—the office.

He
had
to get over her. There was no happily ever after here. She was his twin brother's ex-girlfriend. And despite the fact that Stevie and Nick hadn't been
together in more than two years, Paul knew there was a bond there. Something strong and sweet. Something he'd never be able to touch. And he was pretty sure Stevie was still half in love with Nick. That kind of feeling didn't just disappear. It went into a coma, maybe. But one of these days, Paul's dick-head brother would come to his senses, realize what a beautiful, sexy, smart woman Stevie was, and want her back—she'd go running.

She always had before. Why wouldn't she this time, too? And there Paul would be … left holding what was left of his heart.

“No thanks,” he muttered, and pushed the dark image from his mind. Besides … not even counting the Nick connection, Stevie was practically a member of his family. There were rules about this kind of thing, and damn it, Paul followed the rules. Without rules, there was chaos. And he wasn't about to invite chaos into his family—or his life.

But it was only temporary, he told himself. It had to be. He could get over her. Shouldn't be any more difficult than learning how to live without breathing.

When his phone rang, he practically lunged for it—eager for a chance to get out of his own thoughts. Dropping into the chair behind his desk, he said, “Hello?”

“Well, hi.… ”

He smiled. Only one woman in the world could put that many syllables into the word
hi
. “Hi yourself, Anna.”

“I'm touched. You recognized my voice.”

Hard not to, he thought. Up until a few months ago, he'd spent most of his spare time listening to that soft,
incredibly sexy South Carolina drawl. A writer, Anna James was beautiful, intelligent, and the latest darling of the entertainment media. Hollywood was filming her newest book and she was being splashed across the pages of
People
and
Us
magazines.