Love Me (8 page)

She studied him closely. No heat in his eyes, no hint of vulnerability. Just the mask he showed the world. How long would he keep that mask up around her? Or was he so stuck in the role that he’d never wholly let it go?

“Sure.” She wrapped her arms around herself and nodded, even though she had already said yes. Her head felt heavier than usual. As if the mere effort of nodding was too much strain for her neck. “You can tuck her in, and then go home.”

He shot her a look, then offered Katelyn his hand. “Come on, Princess. Let’s get you in bed.”

He left the kitchen, hand in hand with Katelyn. Brianna followed with leaden steps, but when they entered Katelyn’s room, she hovered in the hallway and eavesdropped without a hint of guilt, watching just past the doorframe. This was her daughter—and Thomas was still practically a stranger.

“Are you going home now?” Katelyn asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Thomas sat on the bed and patted the mattress. “But I’ll tuck you in before I leave.”

“Can you come over again soon?” Katelyn climbed into bed and pointed at the corner of the room, where her pink plastic tea set was almost permanently in residence. Stuffed animals sat at each place setting. Two spots were empty. “I want to play tea party with you. See? I left you a spot.”

Thomas looked at the tea set and swallowed hard. His face was soft, the tight set to his lips easing. His guard was down and if he wasn’t careful Katelyn would worm her way right into his heart. She was good at that.

If only Brianna was so sure of her own ability to slip past his defenses.

Thomas smiled. “Sure.”

“Good.” Katelyn yawned. “Can you be my new daddy? Mine’s in heaven.”

Brianna’s heart stopped beating for a brief second, and then sped up painfully at Katelyn’s words. Did she miss having a father in her life so badly that she would ask anyone to take his place? Had Brianna somehow failed her children? And what would Thomas say to that?

She blinked away the tears and stifling pain to watch. His eyes widened and the moonlight reflected off his pale cheeks through the window. Brianna thought for certain that he’d stammer something and back out, then run for the door and out of her life as quickly as possible. But he took a deep breath and brushed Katelyn’s hair back from her face.

“He may be in heaven but that doesn’t mean your daddy doesn’t still love you very much.” Thomas tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and smoothed the bedspread around her shoulders. “Good night.”

He stood, eyes locked on the picture of Michael on Katelyn’s nightstand. Picking it up with an unsteady hand, he studied it closely, then set it down. He turned and left the room, but froze when he nearly ran into Brianna in the hall. She hardly saw him. She was choking on her own tears, nearly blind. Their salt taste was bitter. Too bitter.

He stared at her, then reached out and drew her close. “Hey.” He wiped her cheeks dry, then cupped them in his hands. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and bit her lip. Over Thomas’s shoulder, Michael stared down at them, holding a baby Katelyn in his arms. His blue eyes shone brightly with happiness, and his ruffled brown hair—that he’d passed down to Zach—was in desperate need of a trim. But he looked so happy. Who would have guessed that just a few months later, he’d be dead? Who would have thought he’d be nothing but a memory and Katelyn would move on enough to ask another man to be her daddy?

Her daughter needed a father, badly.

And Brianna needed someone, too. Someone to hold her up when she was ready to fall. Someone who could take on some of the burden of keeping this family together, so that some days she could walk away from work and say,
I need to get home to my kids.
She took care of them well enough, but sometimes she felt she still didn’t give them the actual care they needed. Being a working mom sucked on her own. She tried to be everything to them but she could only spread herself so far.

How long had it been since she’d sat down to tea with Katelyn? She couldn’t even remember. So why should she waste the time she could spend with her
kids
on this useless, empty dalliance without even knowing if he would stay in Vegas or not? She wasn’t interested in the long-distance relationship he had alluded to once. Her kids deserved better than an absentee stand-in of Michael. They deserved someone who would be there, day in and day out.

Michael had always volunteered for night duty with Katelyn. Every morning Brianna would find him on the couch with her, the tiny baby asleep on his chest, tucked in with her father. He would smile at her, his eyes sleepy, when she woke him up for work. He’d smile sleepily and ask her why he would want to go work in a crummy accounting office when he had a slice of heaven in his arms.

He’d been such a good father.

She bit back a sob. Her gaze latched onto the photo. “You should go now. It’s been a long day.”

He looked over his shoulder. His back stiffened. He looked back at Brianna, his face etched with hard lines. “He would have wanted you to move on, Brianna.”

“
Don’t
. You didn’t know him.” She backed away. “I…I need to be alone now. I’m sorry, but I need to think.”

“Okay.” Thomas’s mouth set in a hard line, but he dropped a tender kiss on her head as he passed. His hand squeezed hers, lingering. He walked away but didn’t release her hand completely until he was out of her reach. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He walked down the hallway, out of her sight. She didn’t know if she wanted to chase him down or push him away and tell him never to come back. Nor did she know if she wanted to cling to a memory, certain and safe—or take a risk on something new.
Someone
new. Someone whose loss could destroy her.

Just as much as Michael’s.

Chapter Eleven

If he ended up in front of her door like this one more time, Thomas was going to set up camp on the doorstep.

Five days of dead silence. Five days when she wouldn’t answer his calls, and he’d been ready to call it off. He’d only chase her so far before something had to give. He’d kept himself busy finalizing the details for the Golden Hand Casino marketing package but not so busy he hadn’t noticed that even her e-mails came from her assistant.

Not from her.

Maybe mixing business with pleasure really had been a bad idea.

He had been knee-deep in mid-week paperwork earlier today when she’d called him and invited him over for dinner. Her voice had been strange, deliberately glib. Why? And why had she even bothered to call him? He’d started to think they were over. She didn’t want him with her kids, trying to take their father’s place.

But he’d never try to replace Michael. Michael was their father. Thomas could be their friend and her support, but he didn’t know how to be a father. And it wasn’t his right to try.

But he didn’t know how to make Brianna understand that.

Hell, he didn’t even know how to talk to kids. For the past few days, he’d brooded over Katelyn’s tea set and those two empty places. She’d been waiting for him to come play with her. Was she upset that he hadn’t? He clenched his fists. Tonight, even if Brianna sent him packing, he would sit down and have a tea party with Katelyn. He wouldn’t break his promise to the little angel.

He raised his hand to the door, then stopped and let it fall. In the side yard, Zach was kicking a soccer ball, maneuvering it between and around two posts staked into the ground. The boy clearly didn’t like him, wanted nothing to do with him, but Thomas couldn’t help empathizing with him. Zach probably felt the weight of his father’s absence the most and felt the need to be the man of the household.

That was a lot of weight to carry on skinny thirteen-year-old shoulders. Thomas had tried to shoulder that weight himself once and had made a strange little family for Erica, Jeremy, and himself—until he’d been stupid enough to tear it apart with false accusations.

Thomas stepped off the porch and into the yard. The ball rolled to his feet. He stopped it with the toe of his boot, his heart thundering in his ears. “Hey. Think you can block me?”

Zach glowered, his mouth set tight, but he backed up across the expanse of the yard and positioned himself between the two posts. Thomas kicked the ball a few feet across the grass, then drew back and punted it hard. It whistled through the air, toward the two posts. Zach dove and smacked it away sharply. Not even the dim dusk could hide the surprised look Zach shot at Thomas.

“You kick all right for an ugly old dude.”

So he wanted to trash talk? Thomas could do that. “Which one are you again? Oh, right. Zach. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you with your pants up.”

Zach’s cheeks suffused with red. “You’d think by now you’d get the point and stop coming around,” Zach snapped. “But here you are. Back again.”

He kicked the soccer ball at Thomas. Hard. Thomas managed to block it with his shin and herded it to a stop with both feet, but it stung. “So you want to play like that, huh?”

Thomas kicked the soccer ball back. “A bit of bare skin won’t scare me away.”

Zach blocked it with ease. “Guess I’ll have to try harder.” He kicked the ball back with even more force than before.

The impact of the ball against his legs hurt like hell but Thomas wouldn’t give the boy the satisfaction of showing it. Zach might look small but he had one hell of a kick.

“You can try to scare me off but I happen to like your mom. A lot.”

He winged the ball back. Maybe this was what they needed. A one-on-one. Man to man.

Zach narrowed his eyes and intercepted the ball. Thomas widened his stance and braced for the stinging pain.

“You want to screw her and then leave her, you mean?”

Fury and shock punched Thomas in the gut. His vision reddened. How dare the little jackass insinuate that he was only here to get laid? Zach hauled back and let loose.

“Now you listen to—” Pain exploded over his eye, turning the red fury into nothingness. He couldn’t see a single thing except blackness and pulsing starbursts. Son of a bitch, the kid had probably given him a black eye. He heard the house door bang open and footsteps running to his side.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Brianna cried. She pulled his hands down from his face and peered into his eyes. “Hold still. You might have a concussion.”

He blinked rapidly. His entire face throbbed. As his vision cleared, he caught Zach’s eye. The boy snickered behind his hand and turned away. Thomas clenched his teeth and focused on Brianna again.

“I’m fine,” he managed. “A little ice and a few Advil would be nice, though.”

“What happened?’ she asked, then shot her son a look. “Did you do this on purpose?”

Zach froze. “So what if I did? He’s annoying.”

“Zachary, go to your room. No—first call Joey and tell him you can’t make the game tomorrow, then go to your room.” Brianna planted her hands on her hips, back straight and stiff. “I’m very disappointed in you. What would your father think about your behavior?”

Zach seemed to snap at her words. Anger tinged every word he spat out. “He’d be happy! This loser has no right coming into our lives. Taking you from Dad. Trying to play soccer with me. Who the hell asked him to do that?”

“Room. Now. Put a quarter in the swear jar on the way.” Brianna lifted her chin. “I invited him here and I’ll continue to do so whether you like it or not. Now go to your room.”

The boy glowered at Thomas one last time before stomping into the house and slamming the door shut behind him. Brianna’s shoulders slumped. She returned to Thomas’s side with a sigh.

“I’m so sorry for this. How bad is it?”

“It’s fine. Really.” He paused. “Don’t be too angry with him. I get why he feels that way. He doesn’t want to see you with anyone but his father.”

Zach was likely angry, confused, and bitter, Thomas thought. It was normal. But he needed to learn to express those feelings in healthier ways.

Ways that didn’t leave Thomas with a black eye.

“His reasons don’t make it acceptable,” she said. Her fingers brushed gently over his face, searching. He could tell her exactly where it hurt…but then she might stop touching him. “Do you still want to come in?”

“Yes, I do. I told you a surly teen won’t scare me away.”
Or your hot-and-cold behavior.
“As long as you want me here and keep me readily stocked with painkillers, I’m coming in.”

A hint of a smile softened her face. “In that case, follow me. We’ll get you some ice.”

She captured his hand, her skin warm against his, and led him inside. Once she got him settled on the couch, she hurried into the kitchen. Thomas leaned back against the cushions, smiling despite his aching face. This was so domestic—an angry teen, a doting mother. Almost like he was part of the family.

A man could get used to this.

Brianna returned and scooted next to him on the couch. Sighing, she pressed the blue ice pack to his brow, her eyes locked on him. “You’re going to bruise pretty badly.”

He brushed his fingers down her cheek. “Worth it.”

Something flickered across her face. Something he couldn’t make out. With a muttered curse, she lurched to her feet and headed back toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you some Advil.”

“Thanks,” he called, but she was already gone.

Why was she retreating from him? Whenever he seemed to get too close, to become too much a part of her life, she pulled away. He’d thought she wanted this—wanted something more than a brief fling. Wanted someone who could be a partner, stable and steady, and worthy of being in her kids’ lives. He was trying to be that for the short time he would be here. Then they could try a long-distance relationship or something like that. Hell, maybe he would even accept the position out here if things went well. But to know that? She had to let him in.

Maybe she’d decided Thomas Jones, fucked-up marketing executive, wasn’t worthy.

He stilled. That thought hurt more than the throbbing in his skull, and that was saying a hell of a lot. How had this woman come to matter so much to him in so little time?

And if he was honest with himself, was he all of the things she wanted for her and her kids?

She returned with a tumbler of whiskey and two pills. Her mouth quirked wryly as she handed both over. “I figured this would work better than water.”

“You figured right.” He popped the pills and washed them down with the alcohol. The burning sensation slid down his throat and into his chest, easing the headache…if not the heartache. “Thanks.”

“So what did Zach say?”

Thomas nearly choked on the last sip of his drink. “What?”

Her mouth set. “You heard me. You told me you played through college. I doubt you’d miss an easy pass, so what did he say to make you miss it?”

No way. She didn’t need to know this one. “Don’t worry about it. It’s between the two of us.”

Her jaw tightened. “Thomas…”

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it.” He pressed the ice tighter to his eye and grimaced. “Don’t worry about him, either. Kid can kick.”

“I know he can. I’m just pissed you had to find out with your face. And don’t tell me—swear jar. I know.” She frowned. “I’ll put a whole damned twenty in there if you tell me what he said.”

“It’s between us,” he repeated. “If I’m going to be a part of your life, you have to trust me. If you don’t trust me enough to handle the situation, then maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

Fury ignited in her gaze, bright and snapping. “Oh? And how did your marriage work out, again?”

He tensed. “That has nothing to do with this and you know it.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“My marriage ended because she cheated on me with anything that moved and flaunted it in my face. Liked it, even.” He slammed his glass down on the table, angry at the impotence he’d felt creeping up on him without warning. “I think she got off on it. On seeing me suffer.”

She reached for his hand, her eyes soft. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed you. It’s just hard for me to let go in these situations. You’re asking me to trust you, but you won’t trust me enough to talk about this stuff openly. He’s my son and I’m used to disciplining him on my own.”

He paused. If she let him, he could be here for her. If she stopped pushing him so damn hard, he would be able to steady his course. He sighed and captured her hand, lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to the center of her palm. “We’re down to less than a week to try and see if we have something worth fighting for, Bree. After that time is up, we’ll have to evaluate things. See where we stand. But I’m here
now
. If you stop pushing me away for the rest of my time here, I’ll try to stop being a closed book.”

“O-oh. Then…I mean, if you definitely want to be here, I’ll try to…”

There she went, getting shy and flustered again. He lingered on the curve of her lashes as they swept to her cheeks; he wanted to kiss her, tumble her back to the couch and finish what they’d started days ago, but he needed to prove to her—and himself—that he wasn’t only thinking with the head between his legs.

He cupped her cheek and smiled. Trailing his hand over her shoulder, he traced a line over the swell of her breasts. “I’ll try, too. And while I’m trying, I’ll be doing my best to keep my hands to myself. Have I told you how sexy you look tonight?”

“No, but thank you. It’s hard for me, too. But I don’t want to rush and—”

He dropped a kiss on her lips, keeping it soft. Even the tame kiss sent shards of need piercing through him. He pulled back reluctantly. “I know.”

Her cheeks flushed a fetching pink, and her mouth twitched into a half smile. She pulled her hand from his and touched the outer edge of his eye gingerly. “I’m sorry you had to be a casualty of this particular war. Zach and I have been dueling for days.”

“Let me have a talk with him and let him know it’s not okay. We’ll never work this out if we don’t communicate. Don’t think about it anymore, all right?”

He draped his arm across her shoulders and tugged her close. She tensed. Her gaze fell on the empty glass, and she shrugged loose. “Would you like more?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.” He sighed and let his arm drop to his side.

She was hardly even paying attention to him. Her gaze focused somewhere else—somewhere he didn’t belong. He followed her line of sight. A picture of her husband rested over the fireplace. The man stared back at him like he always did: condescending and filled with disapproval. It was only a picture, but to Thomas that weight was always there.

He looked away from the picture and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. On the end table next to him was a picture he hadn’t seen before. A teenaged couple dressed for prom. He picked it up and studied it. The boy looked like Michael, which meant the adorable, curvy girl was…

Brianna snatched the portrait from his hand and clutched it tight to her chest, her face nearly purple. “Don’t look at that.”

He pried it from her fingers. “Why not?”

“Because I look horrible. Michael loved this picture, so I had to keep it out. After he died, it felt…wrong to put it away.”

Like hell. Even back then, she’d been lovely. He held the picture under her nose. “Look again. Not horrible. Gorgeous.”

She stared at him. “Are we looking at the same picture? Are we even on the same planet?”

“Yes.” He set the picture down carefully, putting it exactly where it had been.

She stared at him, her eyes brimming. “I won’t lie—he’s still in my head and in my heart. I’ll always miss him and always love him.”

God, could she twist the knife any deeper? Damn it all to hell. He’d been a fool pining for a woman who still loved a dead man. “I get it. I do. It’s fine. You don’t need to say anything else.”

“But I do.” Her voice was heavy. “I still feel for him, yes. I always will. But now you’re here and it’s all jumbling up in my head until I forget what I feel. What I should feel.”