Opposites Distract (6 page)

“Beats me. I just try to keep out of harm's way.”

He held her gaze, suddenly thoughtful. “What harmed you? Because something did, didn't it?”

She threw up her hands. “It's too late for deep discussions. Come on. Let's rinse our dirty dishes. I only talked into the wee hours in the morning in my college days.”

He chuckled, following her to the kitchen. “Okay, in that case, I'll see you in the morning, but why do I have a feeling you dodge out on deep discussions every chance you get?”

It was her turn to chuckle. “Now you know. I like to play in the shallow end of the pool. And you won't see me in the morning. You'll be happy if I remember to brush my teeth for lunch.”

He rinsed the bowls and handed them to her to put in the dishwasher. “You don't take much seriously, but you're a fanatic about your writing. When did you start?”

“When I was young. Writing was always an outlet, an escape, for me.” Barricaded in her room, she'd make up happy worlds, full of people she wanted to know. Later, in high school, she discovered urban fantasies. The female protagonists were kick-ass women, self-sufficient. And she knew—that's what she'd be as soon as she moved out on her own.

“When did it become a career?” He leaned against the sink counter, genuinely curious, she could tell.

“It took a while. I worked in a factory during the day and I wrote at night.” And through her string of rejection letters, she'd watched the dance of the unfaithful as men and women told their spouses they had to work overtime, so that they could sleep with each other. Her dad had been unfaithful, she was sure. Her mother didn't care, as long as he paid the bills.

What was the point? Why not pay your own bills and be rid of men? She shook off the old memories. “I'd better get some work done before I go to bed. I have five pages to go. See you in the morning.”

She could feel the intensity of his gaze on her as she went up the stairs. Poor Brody. He'd never understand her. He'd lived in an orderly world for far too long.

S
he finished the last bite of coffee cake at three in the morning. She'd made a half pot of coffee, gotten a second wind, and was so wrapped up in her story that she forgot the time. Her phone sang “Oh, baby, baby . . .” at seven-thirty.

“No.” She turned off the alarm and tried to go back to sleep, but Luxar just wouldn't settle down. He pestered her until she stumbled out of bed and returned to her laptop. Seven pages later, she slumped over the desk and fell asleep.

When Brody called at noon to remind her to get ready for lunch, she couldn't remember what day it was. His voice sounded strained. She was a writer. Even when her brain felt fuzzy, she noticed things. Nuances made a big difference in stories. Foreshadowing cranked up tension. Something had been bothering Brody yesterday. It bothered him more today.

A glance out her window confirmed that gray skies and more snow had come to stay. No specks dotted the ice fishing holes today. A wind whipped across the lake and shook the naked branches of the trees in the back yard. She'd remind Brody to clean his boots. Things were going to be even slipperier than before.

When she reached the lobby, a heavy sheet of plastic blocked off the west wing. She lifted it to take a peek. Two-by-fours framed a hallway with four openings for doors. The men had started hanging drywall in the back and must be working their way forward. She could finally picture how the suites would work.

She slid onto her chair at the dining table at exactly twelve thirty, dressed and close to being presentable. She'd even slapped on some mascara and blush. She glanced at the others. Quiet. Gloomy. Delicious-looking sloppy joes and potato chips sat on each plate. No one was paying attention to their food. Paula looked from one brother to the other. Finally, she asked, “Is everything okay?”

Harmony didn't feel right asking, so she was glad Paula did. Tension buzzed in the air. She and Brody were acquaintances, not friends. If he wanted to tell her something, he would, but he hadn't. So it surprised her when he looked directly at her and said, “Cecily's pregnant.”

Oh, boy. The woman who wouldn't have his baby had gotten preggo as fast as she could with an older man. “Was it an accident?” she asked.

Brody's mouth went grim. “Not according to my mother. They still bump into each other at social functions. Bridget called to tell me something was up, that Cecily was walking around like . . .” He hesitated.

“. . . Her ass weighed a ton?” Harmony finished.

He nodded. “That's how Bridget put it. Bridget would. Mom said Cecily came right up to her to tell her the news and asked her to let me know. Said I'd be happy to hear she finally got knocked up.”

“She likes to hurt you.” No wonder Brody was so prickly around women.

“When Bridget found out, she started digging around. She knows half of the population in the area.”

Ian nodded. “Like Tessa's grandmother. That woman knows everyone.”

“She found people who told her the scoop.” Brody's broad shoulders hunched. He wasn't happy about the news. “Her husband promised to hire a live-in nanny, so that Cecily wouldn't be tied down. Maybe if I'd thought of that . . .”

“You'd still be hitched to Super Bitch,” Ian said.

Harmony felt her eyebrows shoot up. “I thought they only hired nannies in English Regency novels—shuffled the kid off to a nursery and let him visit his parents between social engagements.”

Ian shook his head. “No, lots of career women hire nannies so that they can go back to their work or schedules.”

Harmony thought about that. Maybe she'd have been better off if her parents had done that. Her dad was a roofer, a “man's man,” who loved to hang out with his buddies—golf, bowling, hunting, fishing, tinkering on cars. Her mom worked as a cashier at a dollar store. She loved playing cards and bingo. They spent as little time with Harmony and her brother as possible. There was a roof over her head and always a meal on the table. But she was invisible to them, left to her brother's care.

Brody waited for her to say something. Her lips turned down. She couldn't help it, but her voice sounded more bitter than she intended. “Poor kid, he's going to be pretty much on his own. He's a token baby.”

Brody frowned, studying her. “Is that what happened to you?”

The damned man was too perceptive. She shrugged. “My parents provided for me, in their way.”

“No siblings?” he asked.

“A brother. I stayed out of his way. He hung out with the wrong people, and he could be mean.” She reached over and put her hand on his. “Are you going to be okay? Cecily's pushing out a baby to keep her end of a contract. I hope the father, at least, wants it.”

Brody stared at her hand. “He needs an heir, someone to take over his businesses.”

Harmony pulled away. Her parents had no expectations for either her or her brother. In some ways, for her, that was a blessing. No pressure. For her brother, it left him feeling adrift. Their parents didn't even notice his bad choices as long as he pretended to meet curfew. “Cecily had better have a boy. Times have changed, but I'm guessing
Mr. Cecily
wants a son.”

Brody smiled at her wording. His shoulders relaxed. “I'm okay now. You put it in perspective. Cecily might have a baby, but she still won't be a mother. We still wouldn't have worked.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “You hate failure, don't you?”

“I'm getting better at it. I still strive for high standards, but sometimes, your best isn't good enough.”

Jeez, is that how he interpreted failure? It made her feel like a slacker. Sometimes
life
happens. She just strove to stay afloat and as pain-free as possible.

As soon as they finished their meal, Brody pushed to his feet. “Come on, Ian. Let's get the hallway finished. Then we can start on the inside walls.”

Ian reached to collect their dirty dishes, but Paula waved him away. “I'll get these. You guys look driven today. Pound away.”

Appropriate. The hammer gun sounded before Harmony reached the top step. She closed the door on the construction noise and plopped in front of her laptop. She was starting the vast middle of the book. Even with plot points, she struggled with middles. By then, all of the set-up was done. She'd set the plot in motion. Lines were drawn, and she knew who'd step over them. The middle was crunch time, when friendships and enmities deepened, everything got complicated, and she had to wring tension from each and every scene.

She was struggling with a chapter where Luxar went to meet Serifina's coven, and they were all going to join together to fight Torrid and his demons. Luxar didn't trust witches, and witches didn't trust vampires, so everyone was on edge. The dialogue needed to be edgy, sharp. Her writing crawled to a few paragraphs here, a few there, with lots of pacing back and forth between the coffee pot and her laptop. She always drank too much coffee when she wrote tricky scenes. Getting up and down gave her mind time to ponder, turn things over, and try for something fresh. By the time she finished the damned pages, she felt like she was going to float away, she was full of so much liquid. She hurried into the bathroom.

Of course, that's when the kids burst into the room.
Damn
. She'd probably have to cross her legs to finish reading a chapter. When she walked out of the bathroom, she was surprised to see Brody with them.

B
rody gave her a wary glance. “The kids came for me, and Ian wanted to go home to check on Tessa, so I tagged along. Can I stay, too?”

He sounded like a kid. That made it easier for her to say yes.

Bailey had a firm grip on his hand. She didn't intend to let go. Harmony smiled. Brody had been whipped by a five-year-old, and who could blame him?

Harmony shrugged and headed to the easy chair in the corner. “Just bring your library manners.”

She shook her head. Where had that come from? A blast from the past. When she was little, she walked eight blocks to the library every Saturday morning to hear one of the librarians read to kids. Then she'd check out the three-book limit she was allowed to take home and read during the week. She'd done that for months until her brother made fun of her for being a book nerd. That wouldn't have stopped her, but when he grabbed the top book on her pile and ripped the pages out of it, she knew she was beat. Her parents paid for the book, but told her
no more
.

“Your brother's embarrassed with all of your reading. Give it a rest.”

It had pissed her off, but she was ten. If she'd had magical powers like Serifina, she'd have turned them all into toads. But she didn't. So she started watching Saturday morning cartoons instead.

She looked up to see Brody studying her. “A penny for your thoughts.”

She shrugged. “Made me think of the librarian who read to us every Saturday when I was a kid.”

His look said he knew there was more, but he didn't push it. Instead, he settled in the chair beside hers and lifted Bailey onto his lap. Aiden, as usual, flopped on the unmade bed. Harmony grimaced. ‘I'd have made it if I'd known you were coming.”

Brody gave it a glance. “Why?”

“You like things neat.”

“Then
I
should make the bed.” He leaned back and got comfortable.

Harmony decided it was safer to start reading the book.

Aiden couldn't stand it when she reached the part where Harry had to promise to stay in his room and not make a noise for the third time. “Why are they so mean to him?” he demanded.

“Did they want Harry?” Harmony asked.

“No.”

“Do they like magic?”

“No, but that's silly!” Aiden cried.

“Why do you think they hate magic so much?”

They debated that for a few minutes, and Harmony loved how quick Aiden jumped from one idea to the next. He thought about cause and effect, motivation, and emotions. Then she glanced at the clock. “We'd better read some more.”

When she reached the place where Harry looked at the hedge and green eyes stared back at him, Aiden could hardly stand it. “Who's hiding in there?”

Harmony shrugged. “I haven't read any further than you have.” True enough, but she and Brody had watched the movie. Shame on them.

At the end of the chapter, Aiden begged her to read a few more pages. “You can't stop there!” he cried. “We have to know who's sitting on Harry's bed.”

She looked at the clock. “We have fifteen more minutes . . .”

“Go for it,” Brody said.

She looked at him, surprised.

“Inquiring minds.” He smiled.

She started the next chapter.

Aiden squirmed with excitement when they met Dobby. He wiggled in fear when Dobby kept making noise in Harry's room. “He's going to get Harry in trouble.”

“Yup, looks that way,” Harmony said. At five thirty, she quit reading. “That's it for the day, kiddos. Scram.”

Aiden hesitated. “Did you ever want to write stories for kids?”

“Hell, no.” She pinched her lips together. Where were her manners? “I don't have any kids, wouldn't know where to start.”

Aiden frowned. “But you were a kid once. You have to remember.”

“Not so much. Besides, I was a rotten kid. Got in trouble a lot.”

“Really?” He studied her. She must not look like a troublemaker to him. “For what?”

Harmony shrugged. “Couldn't concentrate in school. My mind was always wandering off. My teachers got sick of me. I spent a lot of time writing words from the dictionary in the principal's office.”

Bailey laughed. “I get all As at school.”

“That's because you're a smart, little girl. Your mom's probably really proud of you.”

Aiden was still curious. “Did you have any brothers and sisters?”

“One brother, older than me. He didn't like me all that much. It was mutual.”

Aiden stared. “But you were his little sister.” He put an arm around Bailey.

Harmony shrugged. “We didn't have anything common.” She pointed at the clock. “Five forty. Again.”

Aiden grabbed Bailey's hand, who grabbed Brody's hand, and they set off.

“See you in a minute,” Brody called back to her.

She nodded and hustled into the bathroom. Her blush had melted. She looked washed out. She always did in January. By February, her complexion would look like a sallow zombie's and she'd wince every time she saw her own reflection. She smeared on some foundation and dabbed on more blush.

Brody was sitting in the SUV, waiting for her, when she reached the foyer. She scurried out and got in. Once again, they crept down the treacherous road to Tessa's house. Surely someday, the county would salt and sand this street? In her city, mayors won and lost elections on how well streets were cleared in winters.

Brody's frown turned fierce as he drove. Maybe tomorrow, he'd call and complain to some county official. But then he surprised her by saying, “I can't believe no one's ever told Aiden to shut up when he's around adults. I didn't think the kid would ever stop asking questions while you read.”

Harmony whipped her head to see him better. Her hands curled into fists. “I encouraged him to talk about the story. I like how much he questions things. Only really smart kids . . .”

Her words died on her lips. A huge,
gotcha
grin had spread across Brody's face. “You like kids more than you let on.”

Chin up, voice chilly, she said, “It's not nice to play devil's advocate. Didn't your mother teach you that?”

“She might have mentioned it.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “No wonder your sisters gave you a hard time.”

“They'd have given me a hard time no matter what I did. Wait till you meet them.”

Harmony pressed a hand to her chest. She did everything humanly possible to avoid family get-togethers. They brought back too many bad memories. The annual, summer reunion her parents dragged them to always started with laughing and drinking and ended with shouting and recriminations. “Are they coming to visit Ian, too?”

“No, no, I didn't mean to startle you. I just meant,
if
you ever meet them. You're one of Tessa's best friends. I suppose it's possible in the future.”

“Not if I can help it.” She saw his expression—a little offended. “That didn't come out right, but I try to avoid big groups.
Any
big groups. I enjoy having a few friends over instead.”

“You survive conferences.”

“That's different.” How could she explain? “I'm on panels. We talk business, writing. It's things I'm comfortable with.”

“And you don't think you'd be comfortable with my sisters?”

She frowned at him. They were inching down the highway. They'd be late for sure. “I doubt your sisters talk writing. They probably talk about mutual friends and their kids and family—stuff I'm not good at.”

“I see.” What the hell did that mean? And what difference did it make? He pulled into Ian's drive and sighed with relief. “The sidewalk looks safe.”

Harmony shook her head, confused. She reached for the door handle, but he asked another question.

“Your childhood wasn't all that great, was it?”

“No, but it wasn't all that bad either.” She knew people who'd had it far, far worse.

He nodded, and they got out of the car and headed to the house.

Tessa greeted them. “Ian's grilling steaks on the back patio. Supper will be ready in a few minutes.”

Harmony studied her as she led them into the kitchen. Her frizzy, copper hair was flat. A no shower day, for sure. Her creamy complexion looked pale. “Are you okay?”

Right then, Ian came in the back door, teeth chattering. His nose and cheeks glowed like Rudolph's. He held a platter with four steaks, tented in foil.

Tessa looked embarrassed. “I baked with Grandma all morning. I felt great. I wanted to make bouillabaisse, but the smells bothered me. I kept getting nauseous.”

“Oh, shit.” Brody shook his head.

Ian frowned at him.

“You need to go see a doctor,” Brody said.

“What do you think is wrong with her?” Ian sounded concerned.

“I don't think I'm sick,” Tessa said. “Or contagious.”

“Neither do I.” Brody went to the refrigerator to fetch two beers. “I think you'd better start taking prenatal vitamins.”

Ian stared. So did Tessa and Harmony.

Tessa asked, “What do you mean?”

Brody raised an eyebrow. “I think you'd better pee on a stick.”

Ian's expression flashed with revelation. “Oh, no, not like Maeve.”

“Puked her brains out every morning for weeks,” Brody said.

“Morning sickness?” Harmony gazed at her friend.

Brody popped the cap off his beer bottle and took a swig. “Go buy a pregnancy test at the drugstore. They're accurate.”

Ian's brown eyes went wide, and Tessa reached out a hand to grip the countertop. Clearly she needed to brace herself.

Ian grabbed Brody's shoulder. “Let's go.”

“Do you know how bad the roads are?”

“So drive slow. I have to know.”

Brody shook his head. “Not until I get my steak.”

“It'll wait. Tess'll put it in a warm oven.” Ian grabbed a handful of Brody's sweater and started for the door.

Tessa began pacing. She kept mumbling to herself. Harmony tried to calm her, but never found the right thing to say.

A half hour later, the men were back. Tessa disappeared into the bathroom, then opened the door so Ian could watch the strip with her. When it turned blue, Ian whooped with joy. Tessa grabbed ahold of the doorframe.

“Do you need a bucket?” Harmony asked. Tessa looked like she might be sick again.

Ian pulled her to him. “It's going to be okay, babe. We're going to make great parents.”

“But we were going to wait a year . . .”

Ian cut off her worries. “So what? The universe sent us a surprise. An awesome one.”

When they sat down to eat, Tessa's hands shook. Harmony thought she might have to offer to cut her steak into bite-sized pieces for her. Ian looked like he'd explode if he couldn't shout his news to the world sometime soon.

Tessa was so shaken, Harmony reached for her hand. “Did you use protection?”

“All but one time. We were in . . . sort of a rush.”

Ian smirked. “Things got a little out of control.”

“But you want kids?” Harmony persisted.

“Oh, yes. We were going to wait a year, to give ourselves some time as a couple. But I'm twenty-eight.” Tessa stared at her, eyes wide. “You need to think about that. You're older than I am. If you don't get to it pretty soon, time's running out.”

Harmony grimaced. “Thanks for making me feel ancient.” Brody laughed, and she glared at him. “Men don't have to worry as much, but it's different for women.”

“So you
do
want kids?” Brody said.

“Hell no, it's just that I know I'm making a choice. My option's running out.”

Brody glanced at Ian, confused. Ian just shrugged and said, “Women.”

“What have you got against kids?” Brody asked. “You like Aiden and Bailey.”

“They're not mine. I read to them, then send them downstairs to their mom. Kids suck the life out of you. My friends were fun to hang out with until they had kids. Now they collapse around ten at night. They barely keep up with their rug rats.”

“What are you saying? That I'm not going to be fun anymore?” Tessa pushed the food on her plate from one spot to another. No one was eating.

Harmony sighed. “I'm just saying that kids change everything. I'll still love hanging out with you, Tessie, but I'm not ready for that kind of a commitment.”

Brody shook his head. “The parents I've talked to wouldn't change anything. The kids are worth it.”

Harmony pointed a finger at Mr. Know-It-All. “Then you'd better get busy. You're forty. If you don't find a girl and start popping out babies soon, you'll be an old man in diapers before your last kid graduates from college.”

Brody jerked back in his chair and stared at her, surprised. No, maybe shocked. He swallowed, hard. “You have a unique way of putting things, but you're right. I don't want to roll up in a wheelchair to watch my grandkids play Little League.”

She hadn't meant to rattle him, but she had an awful feeling she had. She tried to put it more mildly. “You'd better start looking.”

“You're right, damn it. It's time I get back in the game.” He raised a dark eyebrow. “You'd make someone a great wife. You don't think so, but you're generous with your time and emotions. You shouldn't rule out being June Cleaver.”