HAVE HUSBAND, NEED HONEYMOON Page 8

  "Brady?"

  He heard the catch in her voice. Damn. "I didn't mean to scare you."

  "No, it's okay. But I thought I sensed someone watching me."

  "I … I went for an early walk. I just happened by to check out the center."

  She rolled into the backstroke and swam toward him. Knowing he'd look like a stalker if he didn't act casual, he moved across the deck, hesitating by the pool side.

  She paused, placed both hands on the deck and leaned her chin on them, looking up at him. Her eyes raked over him from head to toe, her gaze pausing at his knee.

  His mangled, scarred leg.

  He instinctively shifted, his first instinct to turn and hide. He'd forgotten he was wearing shorts. It had been nearly dark when he'd left the house. Her lower lip quivered and he wanted to run, but that was impossible. He'd probably fall and make a big fool of himself.

  Finally her gaze rose to his face and he braced himself, telling himself it was best she saw him the way he was now. Scarred and broken. Then she wouldn't want him.

  "Why don't you come in? The water feels great."

  Not what he'd expected. Her soft voice sounded damn near seductive echoing in the empty space. But she had to be putting him on; she didn't want to show him how repulsive she found him.

  "I don't have a suit."

  Her smile was slow and full of mischief. "I think those running shorts will suffice. Or you could go skinny-dipping like you did—"

  As if she hadn't seen enough. "Alison, don't."

  Her smile died. "What? Don't remind you of the good times?" A sad expression darkened her eyes. "We did have good times, Brady."

  "I know." He hated the gruffness in his voice. "But those times are over."

  She hesitated, licked her lips, smiled again, a beautiful come-hither look that made his gut wrench. Why was she acting this way, as if things hadn't changed, as if he was the same?

  "They don't have to be."

  His breath caught, but he remembered his conversation with Vivica. Alison is worried about you… Yeah, she was planning to marry Emerson, but she felt sorry for him. Brady didn't want any part of her sympathy.

  "I have to go." He fisted his hands by his sides. "And, Alison, stay out of my business from now on."

  "What?"

  "I don't want you and my sister talking about me."

  Disappointment and hurt flitted across her face, but he turned and walked toward the door. And this time he didn't try to hide his limp. He wanted her to remember exactly how bad his leg had looked so she'd know how much he had changed.

  Just before he closed the door, she picked up a rubber flip-flop and threw it at him. "If you don't want me, Brady, then don't come back here and watch me swim again!"

  He closed the door, heard the shoe bounce off of the surface, and promised himself he wouldn't.

  * * *

  "Of all the nerve!" Alison stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. "He is so infuriating!" She called Brady every vile name she could think of while she smoothed lotion on her legs, then dried her hair. She'd stopped by to work out and get up her nerve to finally tell Thomas they were finished.

  She must be crazy. Thomas was easygoing, levelheaded, nice, consistent – the exact opposite of Brady. Yes, she must be crazy to consider calling it quits with Thomas.

  But she was definitely finished with Brady Broussard.

  The man had more moods than she did on a bad-hair PMS day. She did not need him screwing around with her head. One minute he was sneaking up on her and watching her swim, looking at her with lust and love in his eyes, the next he was staring at her in disdain and telling her to mind her own business. How dare the insufferable man!

  If he'd been close enough, she'd have dragged him into the pool and clobbered him. Then she'd probably have tried to pound some sense into him. And then she would have tortured him with a hundred kisses. And after he was good and steamy from wanting her the way she'd wanted him a few minutes ago, she'd prance away, leaving him feeling hot and bothered and alone.

  He couldn't play these games without being punished.

  She halted, her bra half over her ear, one sock on, one off as she remembered the scars on his leg, the way he'd stiffened when he'd seen her look at them. Punishment…

  Maybe Brady's idea to return to Sugar Hill and run his father's business, his idea to push her away – maybe it was a form of punishment. She yanked at her underwear, lost her balance and hopped around, trying to steady herself. But she tripped over her sneaker and fell kaplunk on the cold locker room floor, staring at her worn-out shoes. Could Brady be feeling so guilty about the accident he'd decided to punish himself by giving up the thing he loved most – flying?

  And what about her? No, she wouldn't entertain the idea that he still loved her. Oh, he still wanted her sexually, that much was obvious, but love – no, Brady had obviously forgotten what love meant.

  It didn't mean driving someone crazy.

  But the part about flying, about punishing himself – that made sense.

  She blew her hair from her eyes, pushed herself up to finish dressing, Brady's last words screeching in her head like a siren. Stay out of my business. I don't wan't you and my sister talking about me.

  Well, hell, she thought, fastening her bra with a snap. She'd never taken orders from a man before, and she certainly didn't intend to take them from Brady. Husband or not.

  * * *

  Back at home, Brady showered and changed, then hurried to the print shop before his mother arrived, determined to escape her doting and avoid another run-in with Vivica. Eight years on his own, almost four in the military, had ingrained independence in him, but his mother seemed to have forgotten he'd ever been away. He'd learned how to survive on nothing but the barest of rations, how to brave the wilds of the jungle and survive in enemy territory, yet yesterday his mother had started to cut his French toast for him. He'd had to politely take the cutlery before she offered to feed him like a baby.

  But Alison hadn't coddled him. No, she'd looked at his scar, invited him to swim with her as if she'd actually wanted him, then thrown her shoe and yelled at him when he'd made her mad. He grinned, feeling almost normal again.

  Ridiculous.

  When he arrived at the shop, he turned on the lights and headed to his new desk, the one his mother had already fixed with his engraved nameplate, and began to sort through the day's list of tasks.

  Judging by the stack on his desk, he had a full day's work. Exactly as he'd had the day before.

  * * *

  "Thomas, I appreciate you meeting me here." Alison sipped her diet soda to moisten her dry mouth. She'd practiced her speech a dozen times on the way to meet Thomas, but now the words stuck in her throat like glue.

  Running into Brady earlier had really rattled her. Then she'd bumped into Vivica, who had pressed her to meet for lunch, wanting to discuss Brady. Alison had been so upset, she'd refused both.

  To top that off, when she'd first entered the Hotspot, she'd seen her mother and father sitting in a booth together, talking and laughing. They were actually getting along.

  Alison took another sip of soda, missed her mouth and sent cold cola trickling down her chin. Jerking herself back to her senses, she grabbed several napkins and tried to clean up the mess.

  Thomas smiled and cradled his coffee between his hands. "What's going on, Ali? You seem nervous."

  The sugar packets were spilling from the container at an odd angle so she straightened them. Thomas caught her hand and stilled her movements.

  "Come on, we've been friends for a while now. Something's bothering you."

  "I can't marry you right now." Alison closed her eyes, hating herself for simply blurting it out.

  "I know."

  She jerked her eyes open. "What?"

  His smile was so understanding she wanted to cry. "I know. It's that Broussard guy that came back to town, isn't it?"

  She opened her mouth to deny it, but he arch
ed a brow, and she paused. "Yes. No. It's complicated."

  "Ahh…"

  "You really should be a shrink instead of an OB-GYN. You're such a good listener, Thomas."

  "Most women rattle on when they get nervous. I have to do something while I'm examining them."

  Alison glanced at his face, saw the teasing in his eyes and laughed. She reached up and hugged him. "Oh, Thomas, you're so understanding. I … just need more time. My life is crazy right now with so many weddings to plan and my mom coming back to town. But I do care about you."

  He traced a finger along her hairline, tucking a strand behind her ear. "It's all right. There's no rush, Ali. Take all the time you want. I'll be here when you decide."

  Alison squeezed his hand and thought about the hope chest, the veil, the annulment papers. Could they be signs suggesting she free herself to be with Thomas?

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Let me know when you work things out, okay?"

  "I promise." She squeezed his hand and watched him go, confusion washing over her. Darn it, why couldn't Brady be as easy to understand and get along with as Thomas?

  She glanced across the bookstore. Maybe Rebecca could help her find a good how-to book on men – how to understand the husband you didn't realize you still had. Or how to love the man you should love, and forget the ones who'd already broken your heart. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her father rising. Probably going to check on Mimi, who was pregnant and happy and as rosy as a big ripe strawberry.

  Instead her dad headed straight for her.

  Uh-oh, she was in for it now. From the fierce fatherly expression on her dad's face, she had a feeling her mother had told him about the divorce.

  * * *

  Vivica stormed into the print shop and slammed a fist on the counter. "What in the world did you do to Alison?"

  Brady dropped the shipment of fliers he'd just completed, sending them scattering all over the floor. "Dammit, Vivi, look what you made me do."

  "You did something to upset her and I want to know what."

  "What makes you think I did something to her?" Irritation crawled over Brady. The fliers were probably dirty and he'd have to reprint them, as if the first time hadn't been boring enough. He tried to kneel to salvage them, but pain knifed through his leg, and he wobbled and broke out in a sweat.

  "Good grief, Brady, I'll get the stupid fliers." Vivica ran a hand through her pixie hair, spiking the ends. "You get us some coffee, because we're going to talk—"

  "But—"

  "No buts about it." She wagged a red fingernail at him that was so long it could be ranked as a lethal weapon. "I'm not leaving here until I get an answer."

  Brady limped back to the small break room, poured them each a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, massaging the pain away as best he could and trying to think of some way to appease his sister. Vivica stormed in a minute later, her hands on her hips, her head wobbling from side to side, she was so angry. He wondered if Joe had witnessed her temper yet.

  "All right, spill it, Brother."

  Brady's stomach balled into a knot. "Why do you think I did something to Alison?"

  "Because I saw her after her morning swim and she was upset."

  "She was?"

  "Yes. I've never seen her so agitated. And when I mentioned you, I thought her blood pressure was going off the charts. What in heaven's name did you do?"

  Brady shrugged. Maybe he'd finally pushed her away for good.

  "Either spill it or the next physical therapy session will make the others look like a picnic."

  Oh, hell. He might as well confess. When Vivica got something in her head, she'd never let it go. She'd drive her husband crazy.

  She tapped her foot on the floor. "Brady?"

  "Okay, you want to know what's going on between me and Alison?"

  "Yes, and you'd better tell me the truth."

  He nodded, resigned. Obviously Alison hadn't told his sister about their marriage. The realization stung. "All right. Vivi. You're right, I did have a thing for Alison years ago."

  "I know that. Heck, everyone knew it."

  Heat scorched his neck. He hadn't realized he'd been so obvious. "Well, what you don't know is that I married her."

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  "You did what?" The chair clattered as Vivica fell into it.

  "I married her." Brady studied his hands, then finally met Vivica's wide eyes.

  "When did this happen? Since you came back?"

  He shook his head and explained about their hasty ceremony the night before he'd shipped out for training.

  "You've been married for the past four years?"

  He nodded.

  "How romantic, Brady."

  He shrugged. "Yeah, well, we were young and impulsive—"

  "And in love." Vivi sighed dreamily, clasping her hands together. "And you still are, aren't you? After all these years of being apart—"

  "You didn't let me finish." He cleared his throat. "Alison's father found out that night and hit the roof. He insisted we get the marriage annulled."

  "Oh, so you aren't still married?"

  "Actually, we are."

  Vivica was sitting on the edge of the chair now. He'd never seen her so quiet. "I don't understand."

  He explained about the hope chest and annulment papers. "Apparently Alison's grandmother forgot to file the papers."

  "So you're still married." Vivica broke into a smile. "Brady, that's wonderful!" She jumped up and hugged him, oblivious to his turmoil.

  He stiffened in her arms, took her by the shoulders and set her back. "No, honey, it's not. We're filing for a divorce."

  "A divorce?"

  "Shh, we don't want everyone to know," Brady said.

  Vivica's eyes widened. "But why?"

  "Because everyone will talk, and Alison's concerned about her reputation as a wedding coordinator—"

  "No, I mean why are you getting a divorce?"

  "Because…" he ran his hand through his hair "…because we've grown up and changed and—"

  Vivica grabbed his arm. "That's ridiculous. You still love her and I know she loves you!"

  He stood, nearly knocking over his chair, and crossed the room to the window. "She's marrying that Emerson guy."

  "No, she's not."

  "She's not?"

  "I don't think so. But now I understand why she's so upset." Vivica stalked toward him. "You asked for this divorce, didn't you?"

  "Well, yes."

  "You big, stupid, stubborn oaf!" She swatted him with her purse. "You came back and thought she'd found someone else and got jealous and gave up."

  He covered his head to ward off another blow. "I'm not jealous!"

  Her eyes crinkled with disbelief. "So you didn't mind seeing her with Thomas?"

  "Of course I minded, but—"

  "See, you are jealous, because you still love her."

  "It's not like that."

  She batted him again. "Yes, it is—"

  "Listen, Vivi, I'm not the same man she married. For God's sake, look at me."

  He caught her hands and made her stop and really look at him. "I can barely walk, much less jog anymore. I'm on medical leave from the Air Force pending an evaluation over whether or not I'll be able to return to active duty. I don't know what my future holds, I'm—"

  "You're using your medical condition as an excuse."

  "What?"

  "You are, Brady Broussard. You're embarrassed about a few silly scars and you're using them as an excuse not to be with the woman you love."

  "You're wrong, Vivi." Brady turned and leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted as the burden of his guilt weighed down on him. "It's a lot more than that. A whole lot more."

  Vivi placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice softening. "Then tell me what's wrong, Brady."

  He squeezed his eyes shut, the image of Josh's body lying in the charred rubble of the plane flashing in hi
s mind. The image was so vivid bile rose to his throat.

  "You have to get over feeling sorry for yourself so you can move on," Vivica said.

  Brady glared at her. "You don't know what you're talking about, Vivi."

  "I know this – if you give up Alison without fighting for her, you'll be making the biggest mistake of your life. And if you give up the flying, you're not the Brady I've always known." Vivica threw up her hands and stormed toward the door. "And we all want the old Brady back."

  Brady tossed his cup in the trash without bothering to reply.

  After all, she didn't want to hear what he would say – that the old Brady was never coming back. Because the old Brady had died in the crash that had killed Josh.

  * * *

  Alison gathered her wits while her father dumped half a container of sugar in his coffee, rolled up the sleeves of his flowered shirt and settled into the seat across from her.

  "Hey, cupcake."

  "Hi, Dad."

  He slurped his coffee. "How's the business?"

  "Great. I've scheduled four weddings this month and I'm working on filling the August calendar now."

  "Vivica's getting married in August, right?"

  "Yes, Daddy. You know I'm planning her wedding."

  "You're the maid of honor?"

  "Actually, yes." She'd been so busy thinking about Brady she hadn't even thought about her own role in the wedding.

  "You'll be beautiful, I know it." He broke off the edge of a cinnamon bun and bit into it.

  "Dad, what's going on between you and Mom?"

  Her father's eyebrows knitted together. "Nothing, hon. We're just trying to be friends. We decided we needed to be civil if we're going to live in the same town."

  Alison nodded.

  Her dad sipped his coffee. "I saw Brady at the parade the other day."

  Alison squirmed. "Yes, he's back for a month." She explained about his accident, his temporary medical leave, the physical therapy.

  Finally her father looked into her eyes. "Your mother told me about the divorce."

  Here it comes. Did he think she and Brady had pulled something over on him? "Dad, Brady and I didn't know the annulment papers hadn't been filed until a few days ago."

  "I realize that."