What a Woman Needs (10 page)

Hurt. Right. Pain. Pain sucked. Pain was bad. She didn’t need any more pain.

She took a deep breath and stood, trying not to notice how cold her knee suddenly felt without his big, strong hand upon it.

“Beth, what’s wrong?” Bryan grabbed her hand.

She yanked it away. Or, at least, she tried. He didn’t let go.

His gaze didn’t let go of hers, either. Not the whole, long, slow time it took for him to stand up beside her, his gaze level with hers, then rising as he reached his full height. She’d forgotten he was so tall.

He reached for her other hand and brought their joined hands between them, resting her knuckles against his chest.

His very firm, well-defined, muscular chest.

“Beth, if this is about what almost happened in the backyar—”

“Could we not talk about that?” She tried to surreptitiously tug her hands free, but that was a lesson in futility. And humility.

“Obviously we need to or it’s going to not only stay between us but grow and become a huge problem.”

“No it’s not. Really. I’ve already forgotten about it.” The way her fingers were intertwined with his constituted being crossed, right?

“You’re lying.”

Obviously not.

“I . . .”

“Don’t, Beth.” He took another step closer, though Beth didn’t know how that was possible, given that she was already smushed up against him. “Don’t deny it. You might not like it, but don’t deny it.”

Problem was, she
did
like it. That was
why
she wanted to deny it.

But then she made the mistake of tearing her gaze from his and looking at his mouth. At those lips that she’d imagined against hers and, all of a sudden, it was as if sunlight burst into the house through every nook and cranny and every window and door. Bright, blinding light, surrounding her and Bryan until there was nothing here but him. Towering above her, making her feel so small. And delicate. As if she needed protecting. As if he were the one who would do that for her.

It’d been too long since she hadn’t had to be the one in control. On top of everything. Able to balance it all and not crumble under the pressure. Yet with Bryan here, holding her hands, his eyes so intense as he focused on her, his fingers clasping hers so tightly that for a moment, for one shining brief moment, she could let her burdens slide off and know that he would carry them on those incredibly broad strong shoulders.

She wanted to kiss him. Wanted to lean into him and press her palms against his chest, flattening them between them, the backs of his hands crushing against her breasts. It’d been so long since she’d had a man’s hands on her and even longer for them being on her breasts and, oh God, she missed it. And for that reason, alone, she needed to stop this fantasizing now.

“Bryan.”

“Beth.”

Her name was soft. Breathy. As if he’d just woken up in her bed, his hair tousled, the remnants of a night of lovemaking clinging to his skin like she wanted, all warm and sated and sexy as hell, and where the
hell
was she coming up with this stuff?

“Bryan, I can’t. We can’t.” She was lying. She was perfectly capable, and God (and she) knew
he
definitely was. Those pants left nothing to the imagination. “I have kids.”

“I know.”

“I’m a mom.”

“I get it.”

“I’m—”

“You. You’re you.” Bryan undid their hands and ran a knuckle down her breastbone, his gaze following it the whole way until it reached her shirt and he couldn’t go any farther. Not without her permission.

She wanted to give it to him.

But didn’t.

“I have kids I have to set an example for.”

“I know.”

“They can’t see me kissing you.”

“I know.”

“They wouldn’t understand.”

“Do
you
?”

The question was soft, but it spoke volumes. No, she didn’t understand. She didn’t get how or why
the
Bryan Manley was in her home, picking up after her children and the dog and the hamsters and . . .
her
. Now he was picking up after her, only with her it wasn’t something tangible like her underwear or her laundry or the checkbook or a frying pan. Bryan was picking up the pieces her life had shattered into. Unknowingly, perhaps, because how could he know or
want
to know what she’d been through in the last two years that now defined who she was in the future? And why would he even be interested in doing it? She wasn’t blind; she had a backside that had spread a little more than she would have liked. Okay, a
lot
more. And she was a mom. Of sullen teenagers, hyperactive twins, and a dog that beat out the Energizer Bunny. How and why would
the
Bryan Manley find her attractive enough to want to kiss her?

“No. I don’t understand.”

His gaze searched her face. He ran a hand over her hair, his fingers remaining a little too long, fiddling with the ends, testing the weight of it as he slid his hand beneath it to cup her cheek.

His thumb stroked her lips and it took every ounce of self-preservation in her to not kiss it. To not open just enough to take it inside.

His hand slid down her throat, his thumb now resting on her thrumming pulse point.

“This is crazy,” he half whispered.

Beth stiffened. She wished he’d kept it to himself. He didn’t have to confirm her worst suspicions.

She took a step back, but Bryan didn’t let go. “Don’t run away, Beth.” This was definitely a whisper.

“You said it yourself: This is crazy.”

He never took his gaze from hers, but his thumb found her bottom lip perfectly, and stroked it. “What I’m feeling for you is crazy. What I want to do with you is crazy.” His thumb brushed her cheek so softly, but it lit a zillion fires under her skin. “I want to toss you over my shoulder and storm up those stairs and kick open your bedroom door and stay there for at least a week.”

Her knees gave out. Literally.

Luckily the sofa was right there, because she managed to park her butt on it instead of melting onto the floor, but the sentiment behind those words . . . The blatant carnality of that mental image . . . The look in his eyes as he refused to release her gaze . . . Beth couldn’t believe the fire his words ignited was even more of a scorcher than the one his thumb had flared to life on her skin.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t look very sorry.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t.”

Not unless you can back it up.

What the
hell
was wrong with her?

Nothing, sweetie. You’re a normal, red-blooded American woman who’s been on her own for two years. You’re craving a connection and good ol’ Bry here is one big powerful one. Go for it, babe. Enjoy.

It wasn’t Mike’s voice in her head, but she could almost image it could be. He’d want her to move on. Be happy. Be loved. Wanted.

But with
Bryan Manley
? And wasn’t that a lesson in futility anyhow? Sure, he’d said he wanted her, but for a
week
. No matter how good that week was, she needed a man who wanted her for a lifetime. And maybe this guy tonight would be that guy. Why jeopardize that for a fantasy?

Summoning what small amount of mental fortitude she had somewhere inside her, Beth took a deep breath, willed her knees to function properly, and stood back up. She even managed to tug her hand free. “You’re right. This
is
crazy. I’m not that woman, Bryan. I’m a mom. I have kids. I can’t lock myself in a room for a week and forget the outside world. It must be nice to live in your world where you can, but out here on Acorn Lane, I have carpools and soccer practice and piano recitals and a day job.” She squeezed his hand and she felt an answering squeeze in her chest. She was doing the right thing. “I appreciate you saying those things, but it’s probably best if I don’t go down that route, even in my dreams. You’ll be gone, back to your glamorous life in a few weeks, and I’ll still be here. With the carpools, and the swimming lessons and—”

“Mom!” A giant stuffed animal wobbled into the room.

“And Chewbacca.” She dropped Bryan’s hand, took another deep breath, and slammed that door shut. For good. “Maggie, give your brothers back their toy.” Mike had bought a four-foot-high stuffed animal replica when the boys had been two, and they still cherished that thing to this day. Which might have something to do with the fact that Mike had given it to them, but which Beth banked more on the fact that it was big enough to lie on when they watched TV.

“But Mrs. Beecham needs a date.”

Bryan arched an eyebrow at her. “The cat dates?”

Beth rolled her eyes before she strode away to head off the next Tornado Hamilton as the boys would chase Maggie through the house, the giant stuffed animal knocking things off every wall and table when Maggie ran by. “Welcome to my world. Chaos central.”

 • • • 

B
RYAN
was liking Beth’s world, strange as it might seem. He was thoroughly enjoying watching the boys race after Maggie with their capes flying out behind them, the Stormtrooper helmet flying off—okay, it wasn’t pretty what it did to that crystal thing. And then the crazy-ass dog joined in the chase and—

He plucked Chewbacca out of Maggie’s hands as she almost tackled him, while she burrowed her face against his thigh and squealed, “Bryan! Save me!”

The thing was, he had the ability to do so. All he’d have to do was marry their mom.

B
RYAN
couldn’t get out of Beth’s house fast enough.

Marry their mom.

All afternoon, he’d seen the kids imprinted in every room in that house. On every wall. Pictures, drawings, trophies, ribbons . . . He hadn’t really noticed how every room in Beth’s home was a trophy case of sorts to her children and her family.

And Mike. Let us not forget Mike
.

The thing was, Bryan wanted to. Wanted to pretend he had the right to do for Maggie what she’d asked. When she’d come running in to him, it’d been like Mac all over again. The nights she’d come into their room, scared and shaking from her dreams. She’d crawled into bed with him the most and he’d been the one to soothe her fears. He and Mac shared a special bond. Maybe it was because Sean and Liam looked so much alike. Thought alike. They were leaner than he was, quarterback material to his linebacker. They were both in the real estate business, had always had a bond that, while not excluding Bryan, let him know that he wasn’t quite the same as them. If he hadn’t had Mac, it would have bothered him.

So when Maggie had asked him to rescue her, it thrust him right back to the past, and all he’d wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and keep her safe from the world and whatever was after her.

Even the fact that her pursuers had been Tommy and Mark hadn’t dampened that almost primordial instinct to shove her behind him and face her pursuers dead-on.

But Maggie wasn’t Mac and he wasn’t ten anymore. And then there was Beth.

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t ten.

Marry their mom.

So he’d scooped the twins up under his arms and deposited them outside in the shed, with orders to take everything out so they could clean it out. It’d been a good plan, but unfortunately, he hadn’t realized how much time it’d take the boys to unload it (next to none, given that they made it a competition) and then
re
load it (three hours to be finished up tomorrow). It’d taken Beth’s call to dinner for him to realize what time it was and remember the fact that he had a date that night.

One he didn’t want to go on.

Surprising, because the woman was someone he’d dated in high school. She’d been hinting last time he was home that they ought to reconnect, and he’d given her a call the day of the poker game. Unfortunately, he couldn’t bail on her now just because he found spending a chaotic dinner with a woman and her five overactive kids more appealing.

So, he hightailed it home for a quick shower and change, not wanting to show up on the date in uniform.

He was doubly glad he’d done so when he saw Beth walk into the restaurant forty-five minutes after he and Amber had ordered. Which was about forty minutes after he’d figured out that there’d been a reason he and Amber hadn’t gone out for very long back in the day.

He’d been contemplating ways to end the date early when Beth had walked in wearing a light green dress that made her hair seem shinier—and her curves curvier—and Bryan’s blood had surged just at seeing her.

It’d surged some more when the guy she was with had rested his hand against the small of her back as they’d walked through the restaurant. Then he’d slid it across her shoulders beneath her hair and, even from where he was sitting, Bryan could see Beth tense up. He had half a mind to go teach that guy a thing or two about how to treat a woman.

“. . . So would you be interested, do you think?”

Bryan caught the tail end of Amber’s question and the hopeful smile on her face, thankfully, before he’d made some noncommittal commitment that could have gotten him in trouble. What had she been talking about?

“Um . . .”

“Oh, you don’t have to give me an answer now.” Amber rested her hand on his forearm. “We have some time. Cassidy rents the beach house for the first three weeks of summer, but after that, we could have it if we wanted.”

Cassidy. Cassidy Davenport. Town socialite. Father was a bigwig in the real estate market. Bryan knew exactly what beach house Amber was talking about; it’d made an issue of Architectural Digest with its innovative design and that secluded hot tub on the roof that was pretty much a private oasis.

Definitely
not
going there with Amber.

With Beth on the other hand . . .

Speaking of hands, the guy she was with had his draped across the back of her chair and seemed to be playing with her fingers with his other. His body language was loud and clear:
I’m getting lucky tonight.

If only the self-important schmuck knew who he was with. Beth wasn’t like that. She wouldn’t be all over this guy, and she certainly couldn’t be enjoying his almost claustrophobic posturing.

“Bryan?”

Darn. Amber needed an answer.

Bryan reluctantly tore his gaze from Octopus Guy and focused it on his own date. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She curled her top lip in between her teeth for a second. Bryan willed himself not to react. It wasn’t Amber’s fault that her lip nibbling wasn’t sexy like Beth’s was, and she couldn’t help that she wasn’t the woman he wanted to be with right now.

Or that that woman was sitting twenty feet away, fending off the mauling of a professional mauler. He ought to go rescue her.

But he couldn’t. He had no right. An almost-kiss and an unfinished discussion about that almost-kiss didn’t give him that right.

The hand sliding to her knee, however, was a different story.

“I’m sorry, Amber, but there’s something I have to take care of.” He stood and placed some money onto the table. “There’s enough here for the bill.” He didn’t compound the insult by saying he’d call. He wouldn’t. Ever.

“Oh, but . . . but . . .”

It wasn’t well done of him to leave her sputtering, but Octopus Guy’s hand was making a foray up Beth’s thigh and Bryan couldn’t understand how the guy didn’t get the hint when Beth stiffened. He’d have to be dead not to notice.

And if that hand went any higher, he just might be.

“Beth?” Bryan put his best audition-quality
surprise
into his voice. “I thought that was you.” He slid into the chair across from her and the Mauler. “You didn’t tell me you were coming here tonight when I left your house earlier.”

Take that, asshole. I’ve been in her house. Naked in her shower, too.

If it wouldn’t reflect badly on Beth, he would’ve said it.

“Oh. Bryan. Hi.”

He couldn’t tell if it was relief or surprise in her voice, but he was going with relief. Beth wasn’t the type to want to be mauled.

Kind of what you wanted to do to her earlier?

Hell, now he
couldn’t
get up from the table. Not without making it very clear that he had the same thing on his mind that Octopus did.

“Um, Bryan, this is, um . . .” She tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “He’s, um—”

“Rob Linders.
Doctor
Rob Linders.” Octopus Guy didn’t offer to shake hands. Good thing or Bryan might just have broken it. Then where would the
good
doctor
be?

Bryan, at most, glanced at the guy, more concerned with how uncomfortable Beth was. Oh hell. Was it because he’d shown up?

Damn. He hadn’t thought about that when he’d gone Caveman. Maybe she
had
enjoyed the good doctor touching her. Maybe her reaction was simply because she wasn’t used to it.

“So you guys come here a lot?” Yeah, he was fishing, but, hell, he had to know.

Why?

He’d answer
that
question later.

“Um.” She glanced at the doctor. “No. This is the first time. Our first, um, date.”

She was nervously licking her lips so much that Bryan wanted to do it for her. After all, he almost had earlier.

“First date?” Now he did glance at Octopus Guy. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Yes he did. And give the guy a hell of a lot to think about. “Well then, I guess I’ll be going. After all, have to be in your bedroom first thing tomorrow. Linders.” He now made a point of shaking the guy’s hand—so it’d be off Beth—and turned on every ounce of the famed Manley charisma. Let the guy deal with
that
while wondering what the hell he’d be doing in Beth’s bedroom.

Suck on that, asshole
, he thought as he strode out of the restaurant.

Beth’s date ended six and a half minutes later. The prick actually left her in there. Alone.

Good.

Bryan waited around the corner of the restaurant as the
good doctor’s
car pulled away from the curb. Beth didn’t come out, though Amber did. Too bad she hadn’t come out the same time as Linders; they could have gotten together and that would have put to rest two of Bryan’s problems.

He’d examine why they were issues later. Right now, he was wondering where Beth was.

He gave her another four minutes and thirty-four seconds before he headed back inside.

She was there, at the table where he’d just left her, sipping a glass of wine, looking so ethereally beautiful in the candlelight and the backdrop of the lit waterfall, it was as if some director had staged the shot perfectly. Her natural grace as she sat there, poised, sipping delicately on her wineglass that caught the sparkling light from the water and reflected it onto her serene face, made Bryan’s breath take a hike. She was simply . . . stunning.

He should walk away. Just forget about those ideas zooming around in his head, and leave her alone. Nothing good could come of going back to that table and sharing a romantic dinner with her. Nothing.

Yet that’s just what he did.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to ruin your date.” He slid back onto the chair he’d vacated eleven minutes ago.

She arched her eyebrows and took another sip of his wine.

“Okay, so maybe I did. But the guy was getting gropey.”

She swirled the glass around and studied the wine for a moment. “Thank you.”

“I—what?” He sat back.

She set her glass down and folded her hands together on the table in front of her, looking like a cool ice princess that he wanted to thaw. “I said ‘thank you.’ He
was
getting gropey and I’m out of practice fending it off. One of my friends set us up, and well . . . you know. They were hoping it’d work out, but, honestly? He was making me claustrophobic.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh. I, uh . . .” Shit. He didn’t want to admit he’d had a date. Of course, she’d been on one, so she couldn’t take offense to that. Not that he even had the right to
ask
her to take offense. He was a big boy; he could date if he wanted.

And so could she.

“I had a date.”

Her composure slipped just a notch.

Good.

“A date?”

He winced. “Well, it was sort of a dinner with someone from high school, but she was . . . I’m just not interested, you know?”

She sighed and picked up her wineglass again. “Yeah. I know.”

“You weren’t, either?” For some silly reason, his stomach got butterflies in it. Which made no sense, but then, a lot of what he was doing tonight made no sense in his Grand Plan for his life. But somehow he couldn’t seem to stop himself from going down this path. “Guy’s a doctor. Good catch.”

She chuckled. “He certainly thought so.”

Bryan shared that laugh. “Ah. Into his degree, was he?”

Beth shrugged. “Comes with the territory, I guess. I know Mike’s job always came up at some point in the conversation. I’m sure yours must, too.”

“Well, yeah, it does. That’s because most people know who I am. Kind of inevitable.”

“You’re pretty good-natured about all the fame. I couldn’t tell if you were bored or not with all the moms, getting your picture taken.”

“Hey, the minute I get bored with that is the minute I should quit. Every one of those women and girls today, and Jason’s friends the other day . . . They’re all paying customers. They spend hard-earned money to see my movies and allow me to do the job that I love. If I can’t take the time to do something as simple as pose for pictures with them, then I don’t deserve to be in this business.”

“How do you handle it? Always being on? Always having people look at you and stare at you and think they know you by what they see in the media?”

Bryan picked up an untouched fork. “It goes with the territory. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this job. Was
hoping
I’d have to deal with it because that means you’ve made it. If you look at it that way, as job security, it’s not so bad. As long as I can still have a private dinner with a beautiful woman on occasion, I’m good.”

She looked even more beautiful when she blushed. “I’m sure you get to do that all the time.”

That was the problem; most people would assume the same thing. But this dinner with Beth wasn’t like dinner with any of the other beautiful celebrities he’d dated. Not by a long shot. And they hadn’t even
had
dinner yet.

He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. He liked touching her like that. “No, Beth, I don’t.” He signaled the waiter for menus. Neither of them had had the chance to eat, and he didn’t want her having whatever Octopus Guy had ordered. She seemed surprised and twirled her wineglass around a little more. Funny, he’d never really noticed a woman’s hands before. Not unless they were on his body.