Remember Me (29 page)

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Brandon brushed them away with his thumbs and she watched his Adam’s apple bob a couple of times. “I’m not going anywhere, Lucy. I can’t change what’s already happened. If there was any way I could, I would have been there to support you. Don’t shut me out because you’re afraid. Is that why you left?”

She shook her head, her mind going to their arrival at the hospital. “I didn’t know who you were,” she whispered. “Then it all blew up. You were this really rich, really powerful person. It was everywhere on the news. Your parents were there, looking so…so…”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “You don’t have to explain. Strangely enough, I get that part. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

Lucy clutched at his shirt. She needed him to understand. “I didn’t leave just because of me, because I was scared and hurt. Part of it was because of who you are…and what I am.”

“Because you’re a stripper, you mean?”

She nodded. “And my instincts were right. Look what happened. You can’t be with me, Brandon. It will ruin your career.”

“Bullshit,” he growled. His arms tightened around her. “Look, we don’t have to go over all this right now. You look exhausted, and I know I am. We should both get some rest.”

Lucy stroked her fingers over his chest. “Would you stay with me? Hold me?”

“I can do that. And we’ll talk in the morning. Really talk.”

* * * *

Brandon woke with Lucy nestled in his arms. God, it felt good. It felt right. He pulled her tight, his hips–and the erection he sported–shoved flush with her round bottom. He groaned. Lucy shifted, her butt brushing him and making him ache even more.

“Brandon?”

“Right here, baby.” She sighed and snuggled. Brandon swallowed. She needed comfort, not sex. He tried to remind himself, but part of his anatomy wasn’t listening to his noble self-talk.

“You stayed.” There was wonder in her voice, but instead of bringing him comfort, it brought him pain. She’d doubted it. His arms tightened.

“For however long you want me, however long you need me.”

She rolled over to face him, careful to protect her injured wrist. “Would you kiss me?”

Would the sun rise? Would he be able to stop? “Yes.”

He tilted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers. Need shuddered through him, but he kept tight control over it. He had a second chance and didn’t want to blow it. With his lips, he teased hers until she opened to him like a flower blooming. A hoarse moan escaped as he forced himself to go easy when what he wanted to do was plunge inside her–her mouth, her body–marking her, making her his. Her hand pulled him closer, her tongue touched his lips and he was lost. He needed to stop. She was hurt. With monumental effort, he eased away from her mouth, leaned his forehead on hers. They both panted for breath.

“Please,” Lucy whispered. “I need to be with you.”

“You’re hurt.”

She brought one of his hands to her chest. “Here. Inside, I hurt. Heal this, Brandon. Heal us both.”

His breath caught and then he caressed her cheek, slipping the hand to the back of her head so he could fuse their mouths once more. His hands moved over her restlessly, touching and relearning her body. He scooted away, slid his hands beneath her t-shirt and removed it, paying careful attention to her injured wrist.

When his hands slid beneath her panties, she stopped him. “I want to touch you.”

He smiled. “Next time. This time is for you. I need to do this.” He slid the silk down, tossed it aside and let his eyes feast on her nude body. She was his alone. And, though he had minded at the time, Brandon found the fact she had danced nearly nude in front of countless men didn’t matter one iota to him. She was his, would always be his. Now he would convince her of the same thing, leave her in no doubt she needed only him. When he glanced at her face, he was surprised to see a blush on her cheeks. For him.

“Let me…” He didn’t finish, instead dipping his head to taste her mouth. “So sweet. Lucy, I’ve missed this, missed you.”

“I need you.” The need was in her voice and her words, making his desire soar.

He returned to kissing her, letting his mouth slide along her throat and over her chest until his lips covered her puckered nipple and sucked it into his mouth. His rhythmic pull made her gasp and quiver. Brandon’s cock throbbed, but he ignored it. He would do this for her. With restless movements, he slid his hands over her hips, cupped her buttocks and kneaded the firm globes. Even though it was tempting to unzip and enter, there had been too much haste in their relationship already. It seemed to him their lovemaking in Colorado had always had a frantic edge to it, and hurried wasn’t the message he wanted her to get now. He wanted her to know how much he cherished her, how he would never again let her go.

With lips and tongue, he moved lower, across her belly to the dip between hip and thigh. She whimpered, twisting in his hands.

“Easy, baby.”

The moment he touched her with his tongue, Lucy cried out and arched up into him. Brandon felt like a man who’d been lost in the desert and had found his oasis. The sounds of her passion urged him on so nothing but her complete capitulation to the pleasure he brought her would satisfy him. And when she arched up to him in climax, he trembled, unsure if he could control his own orgasm. When her body quivered in the aftermath, he wrapped her in his arms and held her.

“You…” she began.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m good.” Oh, and wasn’t that the biggest lie. He ached with the need to come. “It’s still early. Sleep, baby.”

* * * *

The sun’s rays shimmered through the blinds on the windows when Lucy at last awoke. She was alone, and a feel of the space next to her told her some time had passed since Brandon had left her side. Her satiety told her what happened earlier had not been just a dream. He had made love to her with his hands and his mouth, taking no pleasure for himself. She rolled over and stretched, the persistent throb in her wrist reminding her of her injury. The smell of coffee on the air stirred her appetite.

Would he still be the tender, passionate man who’d lain with her last night and this morning? Lucy trembled as she pushed up from the bed and padded into the adjoining bathroom. One damp towel was already hanging on a peg near the shower. She would clean up too before she went to find him.

Yes, it was a chicken way out, but she wasn’t ready to face him yet. It wasn’t until she started to get into the shower she realized she had another dilemma. While she could remove the soft cast on her wrist, the bandages were another matter. She’d figure it out, she always did. With her arm braced out of the way of the shower spray, Lucy managed to accomplish the task one-handed, then discovered drying was also difficult. Worse was getting dressed. In disgust, she called down the hall for Brandon.

He appeared at the end of the hall, his face pale until he saw she was all right. “What is it? What do you need?”

She sighed. “I can’t get my bra on.” When he grinned, then started to laugh, she stomped her foot. “Don’t laugh. It is not funny.”

He ambled down the hall. “Well, I have to admit, I have a lot more practice taking bras off than putting them on, but I’ll be happy to help.”

Lucy turned her back to him, her breath hitching when his fingers brushed her skin, followed by the snugness as he fastened the clasps of her bra.

“Looks like I’ll have to move in with you so you’ll be able to get dressed.”

Her throat tightened. “Don’t joke, Bran…”

“I’m not joking. Can you manage everything else? Because we need to sit and talk.”

* * * *

He had to make her see they could be together. The stiff set of her shoulders right now was a good indication she wouldn’t be easy to convince. The last thing Brandon wanted was her martyring herself and their relationship under the mistaken idea it mattered one bit that she’d been a stripper.

She pulled away from him. “I think I can handle the rest of it.”

He dropped his hands. “All right, then. I’m making omelets for breakfast, with toast. After that, we’ve pretty much exhausted my culinary abilities.”

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

He waited a heartbeat, hoping she would turn, but she kept her back to him. With a sigh, Brandon returned to the kitchen. It was already nine. Hatch had said he’d be here midday, and if Brandon knew the man, that meant right on the dot of noon. The real question was how to convince Lucy they needed to be together.

He waited until she’d eaten, although when he tasted his somewhat rubbery omelet, he thought he might have made a miscalculation. Brandon cleared the dishes off the table, topped off her coffee and sat.

“So I think it’s time we hashed this thing out between us. I’m not much good at this shit, so I’m going to rely on what I do know and that’s negotiating business deals.” He shifted. “What’s it going to take to get you in my life?”

Lucy stared at him open-mouthed. “Are we seriously having this conversation? Discussing out relationship like it’s a business merger?”

“Well, fuck. I don’t know how else to go about this. Damn it, Lucy, I love you. I want to marry you, have babies with you and grow old with you. I don’t want to end up in any more plane crashes, but I would like to take you to Colorado, and I’d like to take you sailing far, far away on my sailboat, not necessarily in that order. There. My cards are on the table.”

“I won’t be the factor that causes a rift between you and your family,” she stated. “You and I both saw the media feeding frenzy the moment they found out Jasmine LeFleur, Flamingo Road stripper, was the woman who’d saved you in Colorado. I won’t go through that. I won’t put your family through that.”

“Do you love me, Lucy? Even a little?” He’d take any morsel he could get but, God, he wanted the whole pie.

“Of course I do, idiot,” she snapped. “Why the hell do you think I’ve been avoiding you?”

“Okay. Time out. That doesn’t even make sense. If you love me, wouldn’t you want to spend time
with
me instead of
avoiding
me?” Brandon blew his breath out. “You keep bringing up this whole family thing, so let’s get it out in the open. My mother has already thrown her fit, but trust me, she’ll love you the minute she gets to know you because, Lucy, you’ve got guts and you’ve got class. My father’s the one who told her to zip it, and told me to get the hell out of the office and come find you. So this whole scenario you’ve built about our relationship causing a rift in the fabric of the Barlow-Barrett family doesn’t hold up.” He shifted her coffee mug aside and grabbed her uninjured hand. “If you won’t give me a chance because you don’t love me enough or trust me enough, then say so. Put us both out of our misery.”

Her eyes widened. “I do love you, Brandon. I love you so much it hurts when I’m not with you, but…”

He kissed her hand. “No buts. Mason, that asshole who I am now indebted to, fuck me very much, will be here at any moment. He arrived last night and went to his sailboat to give us time alone. So I guess we’re both going to have to thank him–that is, if you’ll agree to marry me.”

“I will.”

“Thank you, Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Brandon smiled. “I do have one request.”

“What’s that?”

“If I put a pole in my place, could you do a private dance for me–after you’re healed, of course?”

Lucy laughed. “It’s a deal. Invite the family. I’m sure it would be an eye-opening experience.”

Brandon’s laughter filled the house. “I don’t think the majority of the Barlow-Barrett clan is anywhere near ready for that.”

Epilogue

They kept their engagement quiet until the night of her showing. Right in the middle of it, Brandon got down on one knee in front of everyone gathered there and handed her the tiny pot he’d bought in Colorado. Every person inside Mason’s went silent.

“Lucy,” he said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, but also one with a faint tremor in it, “would you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

She stared at the pot, remembering the afternoon he’d bought it, and had to blink the moisture from her eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“Turn it over in your palm.”

When she did, a sparkling diamond pendant trickled into her hand.

“I know you don’t like to wear rings because of your pottery, so I hoped this would do instead. May I put it on you?”

“Yes! Oh yes. Stand up, Brandon, people are staring!”

As he settled the diamond and chain around her neck, his hands shaking ever so slightly while he fastened the clasp, everyone in the gallery applauded–including Alexander and Patricia Barlow-Barrett.

Other Lyrical Books By Laura Browning

Winning Heart

Bittersweet

The Barlow-Barretts

Balancing Act

The Barlow-Barretts

About Laura Browning