What a Woman Needs (3 page)

“Aren’t you, like, a big movie star or something?” The kid swept the hair off his forehead. It fell right back. “What are you doing here?”

Bryan called on all the acting ability he’d developed over the years because he wasn’t about to admit
how
he’d gotten here. His publicist would be so proud of him. “I’m helping out my sister. She owns Manley Maids and my brothers and I are lending a hand.” An indentured one, but still . . .

“Just write her a check, dude. That outfit is lame.”

Dude
? Who said
dude
anymore? Last Bryan had heard, no one was remaking
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
. Pity because that sleeper had a huge cult following and he wouldn’t mind loyal fans like that.

“It’s a uniform. I’m required to wear it on the job.” But he got what the kid was talking about. This thing was a disaster. Pants that looked as if they’d come from the seventies—the color of a pistachio and just as nutty. He couldn’t believe Mac had found golf shirts in the same color. And the black utility shoes . . . Hell, he could tell Mac that a better way to improve her profile in this town, rather than having the three of them cleaning for her, was to lose the stupid uniform.

He smiled. Well, yeah, naked male house cleaners
would
go over pretty well.

“And some people don’t want handouts. My sister, for one. She’s building a business and I’m giving her a hand. Speaking of . . . any chance you want to give your mom one and get to work on your room? That way, I can actually clean it.”

Bryan glanced at Beth out of the corner of his eye to make sure he wasn’t overstepping his bounds.

She was looking at her son expectantly.

Jason sighed. Seriously, the kid ought to go into acting. “Fine.”

Bryan liked that word even less from teenagers than from women.

“Mom, can Maddy come over? We want to, um, look over our schedules for next year.” The older daughter swung her head out of what Bryan presumed was the kitchen, her words directed at her mom, but her gaze directed at him.

Oh hell. He’d seen that look before. At every event he did. Teenage puppy lust. That could be a problem.

“Class schedules, huh? That’s definitely important to go over during summer vacation.” Beth glanced at him with a twinkle in her eye. “Are you up for
that
?” she asked. “You had to know this would happen when you ventured out among your adoring public.”

For the first time, Bryan didn’t like that term. It was what he’d always wanted, what he’d aspired to—adoring fans could make a career—but coming from Beth . . . No. Definitely didn’t like it.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it. There were certain necessities that went along with fame, and being accessible to the people who paid good, hard-earned money to see his work was one of them.

“It’s no bother. Your house, your rules.”

She cocked her head, losing a hint of the smile, that twinkle being replaced by something . . . Thoughtfulness? Admiration?

He wouldn’t mind it being the latter.

Seriously. Where the
hell
was Mr. Beth Hamilton?

“Mom?” Her daughter switched her focus to Beth. Finally.

“Just Maddy,” Beth answered. “I don’t need a house full of teenagers today, Kels.”

Kels—Kelsey—smiled and, whoa, Mr. Beth Hamilton was going to have issues when that one got older. She had the beginnings of the same sort of beauty her mother had.

And still he envied the guy.

“But Alyson’s in our classes, too. She should be here.”

Bryan coughed and turned away. Teenage girls . . . Maybe he didn’t envy Mr. Beth Hamilton.

But then Kelsey was off with a dazzling smile and Beth turned a more reined-in one his direction. It had the same wattage and lit a slow burn inside him.

He ran a finger under the collar of the stupid shirt. Besides the fact that she was married—and a mom
of five
—he didn’t
do
suburbia. The only reason he’d gotten roped into this gig was because of the monthly poker game with his brothers, the one that he made a hell of an effort to get to no matter where on the planet he was. If he could get off the set for a few days, he made it back for the game. With his star power rising, his agent said that time off might now be a negotiable item. But if future games ended up with him pulling maid duty, he was going to have to rethink that clause.

The poker game was the
only
reason he came back to town. It gave him a chance to see Gran, Mac, and his brothers, but he’d take the glitz and glamour of the South of France or LA or, hell, any location that didn’t remind him of the hand-me-downs and the small run-down house where their grandmother raised them and that his sister still lived in. No, if it weren’t for his family, he’d never come back to this town again.

Unless I had someone like Mrs. Beth Hamilton waiting for me.

Where the
hell
had that thought come from? She was married. And a mom. Of five.
Married.
He’d never hit on a married woman in his life and, gorgeous as she was, he wasn’t going to start now.

And even if she
wasn’t
married, beauty wasn’t enough to get him to chuck the high life and his hard-earned success to wallow in the drudgery of mowing lawns and little league games with the occasional block party tossed in. God save him from suburbia.

“Are you sure you’re all right with this?” Beth asked. “I could tell her no.”

“Don’t. Like I said, your house, your rules. I’m used to it. I’ll sign a few autographs and that’ll be it.”

Beth arched an eyebrow at him. “You obviously don’t know teenage girls.”

“I do have a sister.”

“Was she ever around a movie star before?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Exactly. I’ll try to run interference, but you might want to consider a not-so-form-fitting outfit next time.”

Damn if that slow burn didn’t flare into a full-on raging inferno. She’d noticed his body.

He was damn proud of that body. Cost him five hours every freaking day of the last movie and a diet that left a lot to be desired. He’d lost some of the muscle and added some fat in the three weeks since it’d wrapped, so it was nice to know the body was still notice-worthy.

“This is kind of, you know, the uniform.”

“Yeah, I know.” She ran her eyes over him.

Where the
hell
was Mr. Beth Hamilton? Seriously, the guy needed to put in an appearance like pronto or Bryan couldn’t be held accountable for jumping his wife. She was
that
hot.

“You do know boys, though, I have to say. Thank you for handling Mark and Tommy. Ever since . . .” She glanced toward the wall on the other side of the room. “Well, I appreciate you talking to them.”

He followed that glance.

There, above the fireplace, was a picture. Of a man. In uniform. With a triangular wood-and-glass case on the shelf below it. An American flag was folded up inside.

All feeling left Bryan’s body, draining out through his feet into a puddle, taking his stomach with him.

He knew what that was. What it meant.

It was Mr. Beth Hamilton’s memorial.

Mrs.
Beth Hamilton was a widow.

And Bryan was in a heap of trouble.

B
RYAN
had never thought he’d be so happy for five kids as he was at this very moment.

Then five morphed to seven. And a crazy dog. Two hamsters. Some cat that the crazy dog was chasing through the house, one harried mom, and a neighbor asking for the proverbial cup of sugar amid a slew of phone calls where Beth kept saying she’d have to call them back.

Word had gotten out.

He was betting it was the daughter or her friends. One tweet and his anonymity had disappeared.

Bryan smiled at the measuring-cup-bearing neighbor while he hightailed it—with his bucket of cleaning supplies and an official Manley Maids broom (seriously? Mac had spent money to have
broom handles
imprinted with the Manley Maids logo?)—into the kitchen.

More chaos.

Maggie had decided to have a tea party.

Six dolls and stuffed animals were seated around the kitchen table, each with a place setting in front of it, with every snack she could drag off the bottom three shelves in the pantry set out before them—all of which the manic cat had charged through, sending most of it flying onto the floor in the most impressive arc of junk food he’d ever seen.

And guess who has to clean it up?

Bryan rolled his eyes, set down the bucket, and put the logo-ed broom to good use.

“Sherman’s a bad dog.” Maggie slid from her chair and stood next to him, a very thoughtful expression on her face as she looked at the pile of snacks he was amassing.

“Not bad. Just easily excited.”

“Everything okay in here—oh no.” Beth’s gorgeous face made an appearance at the kitchen door.

And Bryan’s stomach flipped right along with it.

Oh no
was right. Talk about easily excitable . . . Bryan had come into this room to get away from the pull Beth had on him, so
of course
she’d followed him in. Ever since he’d sat down at that damn poker table with Mac his luck had evaporated.

“Maggie, what did I say about the snacks in the pantry?”

“That they’re for guest-es. Those are my guest-es.” The little girl’s thumb went into her mouth and she took a step closer to Bryan, her tiny shoulder brushing up against his thigh.

Bryan’s heart cracked just a bit.

He put his hand on that shoulder. “I think your mom means you need to ask her before you open them, Maggie. She has to plan what she’s going to buy when she goes food shopping or she won’t have enough when she needs it.”

“Oh.” The thumb-sucking got a little more manic. “Sorry, Mommy.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart, but Bryan’s right. Ask me next time, okay?”

“I will.” She pulled her thumb out and turned that sweet face his way. “Can I ask you? Do you go food shopping?”

Knowing that her father was gone, Bryan had a feeling he’d do whatever Maggie asked him to. “Sure. I can do that.”

“’Kay. We’re gonna need more snacks if Jason’s buddies come over.”

“Jason’s buddies aren’t coming over.” Beth took the broom from him and squatted down to scoop the pile into the dustpan.

Bryan dropped to his knees beside her. “Here, let me.”

“It’s okay, I can do—”

Their hands met. Then their eyes. Bryan was seriously considering putting their lips in touch with each other as well until Maggie poked her face between them.

“Yes they are. I heard him telling Kevin that a big movie star was here. They’re all coming.”

Beth slicked her tongue over her bottom lip. Quickly. But not so quickly that Bryan missed it.

She also glanced away. But not before he saw the flare of interest in her eyes.

How long had Mr. Beth Hamilton been gone?

And was he a dog for even wondering?

Speaking of which, the damn speckled bullet of a canine darted in from the hallway, made a beeline for the pantry that Beth managed to shut with the broom handle, then zipped over to the pile of scooped up snacks and started chowing down before Bryan had registered the thing was that close to him.

Of course he missed the dog when he lunged for it. The terrier managed to escape with a mouthful of treats and dragged the box of Goldfish Maggie had dropped.

Bryan slammed a foot onto the box with a thousand tiny crunches, but at least the dog let go. Right before it took off again.

Beth sighed and stood up, brushing her hands off on her thighs—which left her orange fingerprints right where he wouldn’t mind his being.

He seriously needed to get laid. And not by Mrs. Beth Hamilton, no matter how much he wanted it.

“
Are
you a movie star, Bryan?” Maggie tugged on his ridiculous pants.

A curl had fallen onto her forehead. He brushed it back. “I’m an actor, Maggie. I work in films.”

“Do you know Nemo? I like his movie.”

“Nemo’s a cartoon, runt.” Jason schlumped into the kitchen. “Bryan here, he’s bigger than that. He knows all the important people, don’t you? Like Bradley Cooper and Spielberg, right? You get lots of hot chicks, too, I bet.”

“Jason!” Beth’s mouth dropped open as if she couldn’t believe her little boy could know such things.

Bryan didn’t have the heart to tell her all a fourteen-year-old boy
did
know. Or what he wanted to know. That’s what dads were for.

And, like him, Jason didn’t have one, either. Bryan knew
exactly
how Jason was feeling.

“Haven’t met Spielberg.” Cooper was another story, but not one he could leak to the media yet. And given how quickly word had gotten around about him being here, he figured the Twitterverse was alive and thriving in the Hamilton household, so he wasn’t about to breathe a word to the teenagers. And as for the “hot chicks”—what was with this kid’s vocabulary?—his grandmother had raised him to be a gentleman. He didn’t kiss and tell. Besides, he hadn’t gone out with all the women who were claiming he had. He let them say so, though, because it generated buzz. Helped both of their careers.

“So do you mind if, you know, I have some buddies over? They want to meet you.”

Bryan nodded toward Beth. “That’s a question you need to ask your mom. It’s her house and I’m here on her dime. Not up to me.”

Jason straightened and swung the roof of hair off his forehead. “Mom, any chance Kev and the guys could come over?”

Amazing how the kid’s attitude changed when he wanted something from Beth.

But Beth wanted something from
him
if that desperate look in her eyes was anything to go by—and it wasn’t what he wanted from her.

Bryan shrugged. “Up to you. Like I said, I’m used to it. Better to get it over with anyway.”

“Is your room finished?”

“Aw, Mom—”

“You want something from Bryan and me, you need to give back. And it’s in your best interests, Jase. You can’t live in a mess like that.”

Actually, yes, he could. Bryan remembered it well—well, for about half a day before Gran had put her foot down. The reverberation of his grandmother’s will had been felt through the entire tiny house without her even raising her voice.

“Fine.” Jason blew out an exasperated breath, dropped his head so the hair was covering his eyes, and shuffled back out the way he came. “They’ll be here in a half hour.”

“Then you better get moving.” Beth swished the back of her son’s hair as he walked out of the room.

“Can I invite some friends over? Kelsey’s having some and now Kevin. And Mark has Tommy and I don’t have anyone. Even Mrs. Beecham’s gone because of Sherman.”

Ah, the cat of the fabled dollhouse decorating; that’s who Sherman had been chasing.

“Maggie, we don’t need any more people in this house. And we’d have to invite their moms and I don’t think Bryan’s up for meeting more people. Can we hold off for another day? I can come to your tea party.”

“No you can’t. You’re too busy. You’re always too busy.”

Guilt sliced through Beth faster than a hot knife through butter—but just as painful. It was true; she
was
always busy. Ever since Mike had died, she’d had to be both mother and father, and those were full-time jobs. Then there was her
actual
full-time job, and, hell, how was she supposed to do three full-time jobs
and
keep up with the house and the laundry and the yard and the animals and the food shopping and the bills and—

“Your mom’s busy taking care of you and your brothers and sister, Maggie.” Bryan took Maggie’s hand and led her back to the kitchen table. He hiked her into her chair and righted the half-dozen tea cups Mrs. Beecham had run through. Then he poured out a small helping of the remaining Chex Mix onto each plate, and even plunked a tiara on his head just to distract Maggie from her loneliness.

Yes, Bryan was quite good at that.

Beth shook her head. She really had to get her thoughts back to reality. She didn’t know why he was in this job, but she couldn’t let it distract her. Life had to go on, and the time having a maid freed up could be put to so much better use than drooling over said maid.

But he
was
quite drool-worthy.

Had Kara known who she and the girls would be hiring when they’d contracted with the cleaning company? Everyone knew, of course, that Mary-Alice’s brother was
the
Bryan Manley. There’d been a few sightings of him over the years since he’d made it big. She hadn’t known him back when he’d been in high school, since she hadn’t lived here then. Mike had moved them here after he’d left the Air Force to fly commercial planes, but she’d heard the stories. Star football player, Most Popular, good student, even the lead in the high school musical . . . The guy was golden.

And he was. From his bronzed muscles to his sun-kissed chestnut hair to the twinkle in his sparkling green eyes and the gleam of his gorgeous smile, the guy was the epitome of heartthrob. She’d have to be dead not to realize it.

She definitely wasn’t. No, but Mike was—and for the first time since his death, she’d noticed a man.

It figured it’d have to be
this
man. Mr. Unattainable.

Who was here to clean her toilets.

There was some poetic justice in this world, apparently. Or at the very least, the universe had a sense of humor.

It’d be interesting to see if Bryan was still laughing when these four weeks were up.