The Expectant Secretary (7 page)

“She got too hot outside,” Brody answered, knowing he'd felt the intense heat, as well. But not from the sun. From Jillian. His attraction to her was like an overactive furnace in winter. “Could she have a glass of water?”

“Of course. It is warm outside. It's the time of year.” Ellie rubbed her hands on the back of her jeans. “Deke went to find the perfect bottle of wine for us. But I'll get us all some water.” Ellie headed toward the stairs that led to the cellar. “Brody, if you'd like, you could come down and Deke will start to show you the presses and such.”

“I better stay here with Jillie. I can take a look later.”

“Very well.” She waved over her shoulder. “I'll be back in a jiffy.”

After she left, the only sound in the room besides
the whirring of the ceiling fans and crackle of the fire was Jillian's shallow breathing. Worried, he watched her slide a yellow lolly into her mouth.

“Low blood sugar again?” he asked.

She nodded. “Uh, yes. But I'm feeling much better already. You don't have to baby-sit me. I'm okay. Why don't you go on and meet up with the Sheltons?”

“Because I'd rather be here. With you.”

When her gaze collided with his, a spark erupted between them. He knew then his words were true, not just because of his concern for her health. But because he cared about Jillie. He cared too much.

“Brody—”

“This is a nice place,” he said, interrupting her, charging forward like a bull. He couldn't stand the idea that she would rebuke him for caring. He didn't want her to put more distance between them. Plopping his suddenly tired body into a chair opposite Jillie's he looked around the vast room. It was a humbling place, making him feel small yet secure at the same time. Maybe it was Jillie that made him feel so damn vulnerable.

His gaze settled on a far window that looked out over the acres of vines and wide-stretching sky. The rugged land with its rocks and stubborn brush reminded him of home. He missed Australia, but seeing this place made him think he could stay here in America for the rest of his life. Studying the hard, stony land gave him a sense of freedom. Being with Jillie gave him a sense of home, a piece of hope.

“I could settle down somewhere like this.” Sur
prised that he'd spoken his feelings out loud, he felt his muscles tense.

“You want a quiet life on a farm?” Incredulity filled her voice and eyes.

“You forget I was raised on a ranch.”

“What about working for the Fortune dynasty?”

He shrugged, uncomfortable laying his plans out on the proverbial table, especially plans he wasn't sure of yet. “I'll always work for Fortune, TX, Ltd. It's my life, my family. That's the one thing you never understood about me,” he said, remembering their discussions of family back in college. “I love my family. We're all very close, very supportive of one another.”

For the first time he let his thoughts and feelings bubble to the surface. It gave him a sensation of freedom without regret or remorse. “I'm not a cattleman like my uncle. Or a horse breeder like my father. Never have been. I'm a businessman,” he stated. “It's what I'm good at. What I love. But I can't deny who I am, where I came from, the love I feel for solid ground, my land, under my feet.

“I've been longing for a place to settle.” He raked his fingers through his hair.

Her eyes were full and round. Firelight reflected in their depths giving them a rich, jewel-like quality.

Uneasy with sharing so much, he crossed his arms over his chest as if he could cover and protect himself from the pain of exposure.

“I understand more than you think. Back in college, I was close to my mother. But I couldn't get past the fact that my father had left, that I didn't really have a family, a home. But I understand more now.
I always had a real family. It was just different from yours. Ever since Mom died, I've been searching…needing my family. You're very lucky, Brody, to have yours.”

Something in her tone startled him, made him sense she truly understood. He narrowed his gaze on her. He wanted to believe she could understand him. At the same time it scared him how much it mattered. How much
she
mattered.

“I am,” he said solemnly, truthfully.

Sliding the lolly across her tongue and unknowingly melting his insides in that same instant, she said, “I do have my sister. We're much closer than we used to be. She's why I moved to San Antonio after James died. So I understand your love of family, maybe better…now that I've lost so much.”

“Maybe we have more in common now than we used to.” Tightness coiled inside him. “You always knew me so well.”

She shook her head. “No. I thought I did. But I'm not sure anybody truly knows another person.”

His spine stiffened. Apprehension strangled the hope that had grown. “What does that mean?”

She looked away. “Oh, Brody—”

Without the warmth of her gaze, a chill blew through him like a wintry breeze. “You had it right when you said I'd lived a life on easy street. I didn't know heartache or suffering.”

She tilted her head, her gaze slanting toward him. “When did I say that?”

His insides twitched with nervous energy. Why did he always have to test the boundaries of their relationship?

“Years ago,” he stated carefully, concealing more than he revealed. “When we were in school.”

He remembered when they'd first become friends, before their friendship had blossomed into love. She'd considered him a carousing playboy and hadn't held her tongue. He'd respected her for her honesty. And he'd set out to prove her wrong.

“September twenty-ninth, our sophomore year, to be exact.” The date—the moment—was branded on his memory. “We were walking across campus. It had started to rain.”

“You remember what I said back then?”

“I remember everything.” He leaned forward, his chest tight. “You were the first person to tell me the truth, to speak your mind. Besides my family. You were fearless. You didn't have a hidden agenda and I respected you for that. Still do. Most women don't bother, are afraid my ego can't take it, or are more worried about how the consequences of the truth will affect them. Most people want something from me.”

He stopped himself from going further. Had he said too much? Hell, he was crowing like a kookaburra. Trying to read her thoughts, he was surprised when her mouth curved into a soft, intoxicating smile. Maybe he hadn't overplayed his hand. “I've changed, you know.”

“We've all changed.” She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs, trying to avoid his intense gaze, his closeness, as if trying to put a barrier between them. “So you think now you've experienced heartache and despair…like real people?”

“You make me sound like a spoiled child.”

“Brody, I meant—”

He waved his hand to silence her protest. “It's all right. I was spoiled. Hell, I had everything I'd ever wanted. A caring family. A nice home. Money. Cars.”

“Women,” she said with a subtle smile.

“Maybe.” But not the one he'd wanted. “I had it damn easy.” Until…

“And now you think you need to suffer?”

He chuckled at the absurdity of this situation. “I've already done that.”

A line creased her forehead, dragging her eyebrows down into a concerned frown. “What happened?”

Her interest touched him. Could she…did she care?

He settled back into the warmth of the leather chair and folded his hands over the armrests. Remembering the pain of Jillie leaving him, he tightened his grip. He never wanted to forget that feeling. Remembering would prevent him from experiencing the fear, anger and heartache again.

“I learned I can't have everything.” His voice resonated with the truth. “But I don't mind working or fighting for what I really, truly want.”

And he really, truly wanted Jillie.

Determination surged inside him, fortifying him. Maybe he could have all he'd ever wanted. Maybe it would just take time and a lot of patience.

Maybe she needed time to get over James. Just as he needed time to adjust to the idea of finding her again.

When Jillie reached over and put her hand on his arm, his muscles jumped with surprise, his heart jolted with excitement. The soft glow in her eyes
warmed his soul. “I believe you'll get whatever it is you want.”

In that moment, gazing into her blue-green eyes, he started to believe it might be possible, too.

“What do you want out of life now, Jillie?” he asked, his rugged accent drawing her into a safe cocoon, making her forget the Sheltons downstairs, her surroundings, her reasons for keeping an emotional shield between her and Brody.

She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes briefly and breathed deeply. For the first time since she'd seen Brody again, she felt calmer in his presence.

When she looked back at him, his gray eyes were full of understanding and acceptance. The part of her heart that had been closed off, protected for so long, began to open.

Knowing her heart, she answered truthfully. “I want a place to call home.”

“You never really had that, did you?” Empathy saturated his words. She sensed no condemnation, no pity.

“Not the kind you had. Since I grew up without a father, I think for a long time I was searching for…” She stopped herself. What was she about to reveal? That she'd married James, hoping for the security she'd never felt? She shifted in her chair, sucked on the tart lemon candy in her mouth. She shouldn't feel this comfortable with Brody. She had to keep up her guard.

“Searching for what?” His voice lured her to share with him all her feelings, all her anguish, all her fears.

Resisting, she squared her shoulders against the need to lean on him. “A real home.”

“And now you've lost it again.” His gaze was as soft as a billowing cloud.

She wanted to rest in his gentle understanding. Suddenly she felt exhausted, fatigue settled into her bones. He stirred old feelings inside her, longings that she'd relinquished years ago. He made her want to hope again. And that frightened her.

She'd never had a real home as a kid. Or as a married woman. Her mother had tried, wearing herself out to provide her girls with everything she thought they deserved. James, with his lucrative banking job in Amarillo and his daddy's help, had bought a beautiful house, but she'd quickly learned that a home was more than brick and mortar, custom drapes and a Jacuzzi tub. She'd wanted, needed, yearned for more. Something she'd quickly realized James couldn't give—love.

“You can't lose something you never had,” she answered, feeling a strength she hadn't known existed emerge like a phoenix inside her. Her baby. The words resonated in her head.
Her
baby was a gift. Maybe it was all the family, the only home, she would ever have, ever need.

But she couldn't explain her heart to Brody. Knowing a tiny baby was nestled safe inside her along with her hopes and desires, she stated with firm conviction, “I haven't lost everything.”

His steel gaze penetrated her soul. “What's that mean?”

Feeling too vulnerable, she looked into the flames guarded by the stone fireplace. Much like the controlled fire, she felt her dreams blaze inside her, burning her soul, blackening her spirit when the flames
were unable to penetrate the walls she'd placed around them.

She couldn't tell Brody the truth. But she couldn't deny her desires to herself. She wanted, needed, yearned for someone to love her, to cherish her. But that was a fairy tale wish. What she desired even more was for a gentle, loving man to be a father to her baby. She knew all too well what it was like to grow up without a father, without a complete family.

Muffled footsteps provided relief from the intimacy she resisted sharing with Brody. She refused to care about him the way she once had. She didn't need him. Didn't want him.

That, she realized, was a bold lie.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Ellie interrupted, carrying a tray of water glasses and wine goblets.

“It's my fault,” Deke said, coming up the stairs behind his wife. Their voices carried through the cavernous room. “We had a disagreement over which wine we should sample. So I brought a couple of bottles.”

“He wanted you to try one of our Merlots from a few years back. It is a good vintage. But with the heat, I thought a crisp Chardonnay would be better.”

Deke studied one of the chilled bottles. “It has sold well.” Applying the corkscrew to the top, he opened the bottle and sighed with pleasure when the cork pulled free. “Not a better sound in the world.”

Grinning, he poured wine into the goblets that Ellie had placed on the round table. Then he handed a glass of golden wine to each of them.

Unsure what to do, Jillian waited until Brody made a toast.

“To good wine—” his gaze sought hers “—and vintage friendships.”

Her heart contracted. He was right. He had changed. For the better. Or maybe the worse. He made her want to love him again. And she couldn't—wouldn't—make that mistake twice.

Taking his cue, she pressed the cool edge of the goblet against her lips and pretended to taste the wine.

“What do you think?” Deke asked.

“Very refreshing,” Brody answered, sipping more of the Chardonnay.

Deke and Ellie looked toward Jillian. She muttered an appropriate response. But they didn't seem satisfied.

Frowning, Deke insisted. “Try it again. I bet by the time you finish that glass you'll be feeling much better.”

Her insides turned cold. She couldn't continue the charade any further. She didn't have a choice. Carefully, she set the goblet on the table. “I'm sorry, but I don't drink.”

Brody's startled gaze pinned her. She knew he remembered sharing bottles of wine during television shows and over candlelight dinners. She recognized the changes in him as easily as she saw the lines pinching the corners of his mouth. But obviously he didn't understand that she'd changed, too.