The Other Brother (4 page)

“A pose? What? How?”

“Why don’t you start with something that isn’t you standing there appearing extremely uncomfortable.” Now she knew why she’d never done this kind of shoot before—if the models all complained that much, it would be hellish.

“That’s a challenge in itself.” He fell silent, a ponderous expression on his face. Then he leaned against the tree, his arms folded.

She snapped dozens of pictures, crouching, bending, anything to get different perspectives—the perfect perspective—from one pose. A stream of words flowed. “Okay…great start…hold that…move your head this way…for goodness’ sake, smile!”

Continuing to bark directions at him, she watched him slowly get into it, grow bolder, more confident. She fired off more shots, despite the fact most of them wouldn’t be used. She knew exactly what kind of photo she wanted, and didn’t have it yet.

Waiting a little longer, and with a confidence she didn’t feel, she said, “Okay, great. Now take off your shirt.”

“What? Oh, balls. I’d forgotten about that.”

More like you were hoping
I’d
forgotten
.

“Come on, off with it. You’re in shape, aren’t you? Then you’ve got nothing to be shy about.”

Muttering under his breath, he pushed away from the tree and curled his fingers around the hem of his T-shirt. Gave her a pleading glance. Melodie raised one expectant eyebrow. Heaving a heavy sigh, he began to pull up the shirt, taking his sweet time, almost like a strip tease.

She bit her lip to prevent a smirk. As he revealed more and more skin, however, the temptation to smirk morphed into a temptation to groan. And drool. The man was
ripped
. It had been a while since she’d seen a bare-chested male that close—not including the runners in the park on hot days—and she’d forgotten how sexy they could be.
Damn
. How had he been hiding such a smokin’ hot body under his clothes? Her gaze roamed the delicious sight, and she only
just
managed to tear it away before the offending garment dropped to the ground and he caught her staring.

“See?” Her voice sounded much brighter than she felt. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? You look great. You’ll definitely give those professional male models a run for their money.”

With a sour expression, he said, “So, what should I do now? Let’s get this over and done with.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop being so pissy. Have you forgotten why we’re doing this? It’s not a fashion shoot, remember.”

Having the good grace to look chagrined, he gave her a small smile. “Sorry. I guess I’m not cut out for this kind of thing. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it—or do the very best I can, anyway.”

Her smile dwarfed his. “That’s more like it. Now, why don’t you try going back into the pose against the tree? But check that there aren’t any insects lurking or anything, first. I don’t want my model getting covered in bites! Not sexy!”

“Okay.” Turning to examine the tree, he gave a serious nod. “Seems all right.” He leaned against it, looking more uncomfortable than he had earlier, and she did her best to encourage him.

“Excellent! Great stuff. Now tighten your arms a little, show us those guns. Oh, yes, perfect.” Keeping up a running commentary, she flitted around him, taking photographs from different angles. The shoot had already improved and they’d have some decent photos to choose from. At the same time, she shoved much less innocent thoughts to the very back of her mind. Her attempt to stick them in a cupboard, wrap chains around it, and lock it tight failed miserably, though. They tickled at the very edges of her brain, but she resolutely ignored them.

She straightened from her crouched position. “Let’s try some other poses, shall we?”

“You’re the boss.”

Since he didn’t appear to be sarcastic, she grinned. “I suppose I am. Right….”

She clicked away, becoming so engrossed in her task of making her subject as interesting and attractive as possible, she didn’t have time for bad thoughts and they receded further.

They continued for another hour or so, drawing lots of fascinated and confused glances from people walking past, who probably thought Patrick was
someone
. Thankfully, he became well and truly used to both the camera and the lingering stares. He wasn’t a natural, exactly—and probably never would be—but he’d definitely improved.

After several more poses, she announced, “I think we’ve got enough here to wallpaper someone’s entire house, never mind appear on one page of a calendar. I can’t tell for sure on this little screen, but I think we’ve got loads here that have come out great. We’ll have to go through them together, if that’s okay with you? I’d rather make sure you’re happy with the photo I submit.”

“No problem.” He bent to retrieve his shirt. “Can I put this back on now?”

She nodded and he tugged the garment on at warp speed then stuffed his waterproof jacket into his bag. Maybe he hadn’t become quite as confident as she’d thought, and, if she admitted it to herself, it was a shame he’d covered up—he had a body to die for. Not too bulky, not too skinny, but just right. Lithe, toned, sexy…
phew
. She shook her head to try and rid her mind of the indecent images that had returned. Leching over her late fiancé’s little brother screamed inappropriate. They were working together to do something good for a worthy charity, nothing more.

Grabbing her bag, she eased her precious camera back into it and slung it over her shoulder.

“Hey.” Patrick walked over to her with his own bag in his hand and lifted it onto his shoulders, “I’ll carry that.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you getting your hands on it and secretly deleting photos!”

“I wouldn’t dare. You’re quite a scary woman when you get into your photo-taking zone, you know.”

“I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mess with you, anyway. Here.” He held his hand out, and she reluctantly handed the bag over.
It will be quite safe
. She had no reason to worry.

“Okay.” he said. “Shall we go and have our picnic now? I think we’ve earned it.”

“
You
definitely have. You did really well.”

“Thanks.” They made their way out of the Ramble and back onto the path. “It wasn’t that bad, really. Though, thinking about it, I really should have had one of those beers first. It might have given me a bit more confidence.”

“Well, we’ll go and find somewhere to sit and you can have one then. A reward for all your good work.”

“Are you joining me? You’ve done good work, too. This whole thing was your idea!”

“Well, not exactly. I didn’t dream up the calendar idea, did I?”

“No, but that doesn’t matter. You’re still giving your own time and talent to help out. So, who did come up with the calendar idea?”

“This guy, Leonidas Russo. He’s an ex-Marine and also lost his brother in Afghanistan.”

“Seems like everyone has their reasons for doing this calendar, then.”

“Pretty much. Come on, let’s not get maudlin. Hey, how about here?” They’d arrived at an open space and, as the sun still shone, there were groups of people gathered on blankets and in chairs, enjoying their picnics and the sunshine.

“Yes, this is great. Pick a spot and I’ll unpack.”

“Unpack? You make it sound as though you’ve got loads in there!”

He flashed her an enigmatic smile.

After a few paces, she stopped. “Here is great. It’s bathed in sunshine and has great views.”

“Okay.” Handing Melodie the camera bag, he slipped his own from his shoulders, retrieved a blanket, and tossed it to her. “If you could lay that down, I’ll get the other stuff out.”

She shook it out over the ground and straightened any lumps. Sitting, she watched Patrick empty his bag of many wonders. Wonders that included beer and soft drinks and other tasty things. Her stomach growled.
Wow, thank goodness for this picnic. We could have found a hot dog vendor or something, but I’m glad the food is right here, right now
. He joined her on the blanket and pushed the boxes and packets of goodies farther into the middle so they could both reach them easily. She smiled gratefully.

“Go on, dig in,” he said, pointing at the feast. “I’m starving, too.”

No more persuasion was necessary. Pulling open the nearest bag of chips, she did indeed “dig in.” The two of them sat and ate in silence, and only as she started getting full did she realize how contented she felt. Patrick had many positive traits: easy-going, fun to be with, and thoughtful, hence the picnic.

Grabbing a can of beer, she took several gulps. Patrick peered at her. “What?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen a woman drink like that before.”

“Sorry,” she said, her tone defensive. “But you didn’t bring any glasses or cups.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t get pissed at me. I’m impressed, that’s all.”

Narrowing her eyes, she wanted to know why he’d been gawking at her in the first place? Admittedly, he’d called her hot, but having an appreciation for someone’s looks didn’t mean you were attracted to them. Attraction equaled so much more than the physical.

God, is he interested in me
? She dug back into the food, scooping up a healthy dollop of hummus on the end of a breadstick, trying to focus her thoughts without staring at the cause of them.

Was there something between her and Sean’s little brother? And if so, what the hell were they going to do about it?

“Thanks for walking me back. I’ll let you know when I have the photos ready for viewing.” Melodie held her hand out for the camera bag that Patrick had still insisted on carrying for her.

“Oh, I thought we were going to check them out now.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a headache coming on and would like to go lie down before it gets worse.” She couldn’t let him come up right then. She wasn’t ready for what might happen if he did.

“Oh, right. Sorry to hear that. Go get some rest, and I hope you’re feeling better soon. Want me to carry your bag upstairs?”

Patrick appeared really concerned, and her resolve melted a little. Then she tugged it back into place quickly. Her head was fucked up because of her feelings for him. Her mind had been wandering down that sordid, forbidden path ever since the shoot.

“I’ll be fine, really. I’ll drop you a text later or tomorrow and let you know how I’m doing.”

“Please do.” Bending, he pressed a kiss on her cheek. “Now go on, to bed with you. And thanks for a fun day.”

With a wan smile, she turned and let herself into the building. The skin where he’d kissed her burned and she walked quickly around the corner to the elevators where he couldn’t see her. Then she let her feelings go. Clapping her hands over her mouth, her horror grew as the heat in her cheek spread over her face, down her neck and her chest. Her heart pounded almost painfully, like a sledgehammer against her ribcage, and tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. Repeatedly jabbing the button for the elevator, she wanted nothing more in the world than to be locked, alone, inside her apartment. There, she could really let go, let the tears fall, let the shame and pain take over.

Finally, the metal doors slid open and she stepped inside the car. Selecting her floor, she squeezed her eyes closed, pulled in breaths through her nose, releasing them from her mouth. The calming measure had usually worked in the past, and she needed it to work now. At least until she could get to her loft.

After what felt like a decade, she reached her floor, scurried along the corridor and barged into her apartment. Headache? No. Heartache, yes.

Headache or heartache, it fucking
hurt
. Chest tight, she struggled to breathe, her palms clammy. It frightened her, not unlike a panic attack. Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to put her camera bag down before she dropped it.

Slumping onto the sofa, Melodie basked in her pathetic state and wanted to tell herself to get the fuck over it. So what if she was falling in love with her dead fiancé’s brother? God, she wished she could feel so blasé about the whole thing.
Can’t
. She’d always known one day she’d be ready for a relationship, ready to let the pain of losing Sean recede. She’d never forget him of course, but she’d promised him if anything did happen to him, she’d find someone else.

She hadn’t been willing to contemplate the possibility anything would happen to him in Iraq. Sean had pressed the issue though, insisted she promise not to be alone if he didn’t come back. To keep the peace, to keep him happy, she’d agreed then immediately and forcefully pushed the thoughts away. It wouldn’t happen to him. Wouldn’t happen to her.

He’d done two tours of duty and returned safely home to her, and she’d forgotten all about it, all about the silly promise she’d made. They’d be together forever, happy and in love.

Unfortunately, it had been third time unlucky, and she’d ended up like so many other women—and men—having lost their partners. Knowing her situation mirrored others across the country, across the world, didn’t do a damn thing to help. Nor did knowing that others grieved for Sean, too. Parents, brother, friends, the rest of his family, his colleagues; they’d all had him ripped from their lives, cruelly, wrongfully. But she couldn’t concentrate on that. Consumed by grief, she’d barely made it through the funeral, but afterward, she’d broken down. Nothing and nobody could help her.

The pain of seeing Patrick threatened to take over again, but in a different way. Raw, powerful grief had transformed to guilt. Not so much guilt that her heart had healed, allowing her to move on, but her heart had set itself on his
brother
. The man who had stood by her side at the funeral, his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze every now and again. The man who’d pulled her into his arms, held her tightly, and let her sob until it hurt. As she grieved over his sibling.

She shook her head.
This is totally messed up. How on earth has this even happened? One minute I’m living my lonely life, and the next Patrick waltzes in and somehow captures my damn heart
.