Walk the Line (Man of the Month Book 12), Page 4

  His head tilted almost imperceptibly, but she’d paid enough attention to him over the last few months to recognize his subtle signals. He was interested. And a little bit unsure. “And why’s that?” he finally said.

  Her throat tightened, and she wondered if he could hear the pounding of her heart. She almost lost her nerve, but this was opportunity knocking loud and hard, and she’d be a fool to ignore it. “Don’t you know?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he simply held her gaze as she kicked herself. She should have said nothing. Or she should have said more. Instead, she’d played it coy, and what if he didn’t know? What if he didn’t understand at all?

  “Elena.”

  That was all he said, but she thought she heard longing in his voice. Or was that just her imagination? She didn’t know. All she knew was that he was looking right at her, and she was starting to feel a little drunk as she stared into those whiskey colored eyes.

  A moment passed, then another. And finally she found her voice. “Yes?”

  His throat moved as he swallowed. “I think I should show you the kitchen. I’ve got some leftovers Faith can have for dinner.”

  “Oh.” She felt as if she’d fallen out of a cozy boat into a freezing ocean. “Right.”

  “I’ll be home late. Probably three. You’re up for this?”

  “Of course.” She conjured a smile before following him to the kitchen. “I’m up for whatever you need.”

  Unfortunately, she could tell perfectly well that he didn’t need her.

  Chapter Six

  Brent had a hell of a time keeping his mind on work. Instead, he kept thinking of Elena. Of her sweet smile. Her lithe body.

  Of her seemingly innocent words that weren’t innocent at all.

  Whatever you need.

  God, did she even know what she was offering? Because he wanted a lot. Too bad he couldn’t take what she was offering.

  What he thought she was offering.

  But no. He wasn’t that dense. She was interested. And God knew he was interested.

  But that didn’t mean it was a good idea. On the contrary, he thought, glancing over at where Tyree stood with Reece at the other end of the long oak bar, it was about as bad as an idea could get.

  “You look distracted,” Jenna said, keeping her hand on her belly as she hauled herself up and onto one of the nearby barstools.

  “I’m not distracted,” he protested. “What makes you say I’m distracted?”

  She laughed. “Maybe the way you’ve been staring at that proposal for the last ten minutes.”

  He glanced down at the folder he held open in his hands and the sheath of papers that comprised the security company’s plan for installing an upgraded camera system.

  “Sorry. I was just—”

  “Thinking about camera placement?” she interrupted, her tone innocent. “Why wouldn’t you be? After all, cameras are fascinating, and you need to spend lots and lots of time second-guessing the experts you hired to analyze the visual gaps and do the installation.”

  He put the folder down and stared at this woman who was one of his two best friends. “All right. I give up. What’s up with you?”

  “Not a thing,” she said, then smiled sweetly. “So how were Elena and Faith getting along when you left?”

  “Gangbusters,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he took in her too-innocent expression. “It’s not a good idea, Jenna.”

  To her credit, she didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Instead, she just said, “Isn’t it?”

  He sighed. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, but he knew Jenna’s matchmaking tendencies well enough to know that there was no way out now. “She's too young.”

  “Oh, please.” Jenna sipped the water that Cam, the weekend manager, put in front of her, then turned her attention back to Brent. “If she was thirty-three and you were forty-three, you wouldn’t even give a flip.”

  “Probably true,” he conceded. “But by thirty-three she’d have a sense of her life. Some stability in her career. At twenty-three, she’s barely starting out. She’s in grad school. You know that right?”

  “And, what? At thirty you magically cross some line that makes you established and stable? If that’s the case, why haven’t you settled down with a thirty-something already? God knows enough women who qualify have passed through these doors and left you their number. And don’t deny it, because I’ve seen the napkins you’ve thrown out. Lots of heartbroken women out there, Brent.”

  “Don’t push me, Jenna.”

  For a second, she looked like she was going to argue. Then she sighed and laced her fingers over her growing belly. “Look, I get it. I really do. But not all women leave, you know? And I want you to be happy.”

  “Who says I’m not?” And he was happy. He had his friends. He had Faith. He had work he enjoyed even if it didn’t have the rush of his previous life as a detective. Bottom line, he was genuinely a happy man. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t something missing.

  That part, however, he didn’t say to Jenna.

  She understood it anyway, of course. “Take a chance, Brent. Just one tiny step outside of your circle. You owe it to yourself.”

  “No, I don’t. The only one I owe anything to is Faith. It’s just her and me against the world. You know that. And with her, I’m not willing to take chances.”

  Jenna’s shoulders sank on a sigh. She knew his history. Knew that his mother had passed away his first year of college from ovarian cancer. Her death had driven a wedge between Brent and his father because his dad had pulled away from Brent, going so far as to move to Oregon. Brent had given the man his space, figuring they’d be able to mend the rift after his dad had healed. But then his father was killed in a fatal one-car accident, and even now, Brent didn’t know if it was truly accidental or if it had been vehicular suicide.

  Either way, he knew better than most that people left. And even though he couldn’t shield Faith from death, he could damn sure reduce the risk that the people she loved would walk out of her life.

  “You have us,” Jenna said softly. “And so does Faith. You know that, Brent. And not every woman is Olivia. I mean, I’m not leaving Reece. He’s stuck with me.” She flashed a bright grin, her green eyes flashing. “I thought I should mention that. Just in case you were worried.”

  “Thanks for that,” he said, amused despite himself. “Now go away,” he added, picking up the folder again. “I really do have to read this and get back to these guys about the installation details.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He helped her get off the chair, then smiled as she made the sign of a B on her forehead. “Best friends forever?”

  “You know it,” he said, making the sign right back.

  She rose on her toes to kiss his cheek, then headed back to handle her own work as he tried to focus on the camera installation proposal.

  For the most part, he managed to get the day’s work done. But her words clung to him as he signed the proposal and emailed it back, and as he called Landon to go over everything the detective had learned when he’d canvassed the neighborhood. On the whole, all of his attention that Saturday was focused on preventing further graffiti and finding the original taggers.

  And yet there was Elena, too, a constant presence beneath his thoughts. A sensual awareness that he couldn’t shake, and that he told himself he didn’t want.

  But he did.

  Damn him, he really did.

  She was still on his mind when he finally made it home at half-past three in the morning. The house was dark except for the flicker of the muted television and the bathroom light in the hall, kept on always at Faith’s insistence.

  He saw Elena on the couch and started to speak, then realized that she was asleep. Gingerly, he tiptoed past, then walked quietly to Faith’s room to check on the little girl who was snoring softly and cuddling Cracker Jack, a stuffed lemur that had become her newest lovey.

  He bent to kiss her cheek, the
n gently closed her door, leaving only a crack, before heading back to the living room. “Hey,” he said, bending over and placing a light hand on Elena’s shoulder.

  He shook her gently. “Time to go,” he whispered, then sucked in a surprised breath when she shifted in her sleep and reached for his hand. She made the kind of soft noise that made a man hard, then drew their joined hands to her lips before gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

  Electricity arced through him, but he stood frozen, afraid that if he even breathed he’d lose it. But oh, how he wanted to move. Wanted to touch her. Wanted to wake her, then kiss her.

  Wanted to do all sorts of things he shouldn’t want to do at all. And yet he did want to. He wanted to desperately.

  Finally, he stepped back, gently tugging his hand free. He didn’t try to wake her again. Instead, he told himself that she was fast asleep. But it wasn’t a convincing lie; he knew damn well that the only reason he didn’t send her home was that he liked having her in his house.

  He pulled an extra blanket from the basket by the television, then draped it over her. Then he went to his own bed and tried to sleep.

  Instead, he tossed and turned, though at some point sleep must have caught up with him, because he was startled awake when his alarm went off at eight.

  With more alacrity than usual for a Sunday morning, he sprang out of bed, then grabbed his robe before heading into the living room. He expected to see her, of course, and when he saw that the living room was empty, he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling, as if he’d suffered a profound loss.

  He told himself it was just the shock of a change of plans—he’d intended to make waffles for her and Faith—but of course that wasn’t it at all. He’d wanted to see her. More than that, he’d wanted Elena to be the first person he saw that morning, even before seeing Faith.

  “Not good, Sinclair. Really not good.”

  “What’s not good, Daddy?”

  He painted on a smile as he turned to his daughter. “Hey you, sneaking up on me. How was it last night with Elena?”

  “She made me spaghetti, and we baked cookies and played games,” she said. “And I won all the hide-and-seek!”

  “I bet you did.” He listened to her chatter on about where she hid and the silly songs they sang and the intricate process of making perfect slice-and-bake cookies. Then he plunked her on the counter while he made them both waffles before sending her out to the front yard to retrieve the Sunday paper. They settled down on the sofa, and he read the news while she looked at the funnies and the ad inserts. After that, they went to the grocery store, and he supervised the cleaning of her room.

  All in all, a typical Sunday, until the doorbell rang at one, announcing Elena’s return.

  “Elena!” Faith called when Brent opened the door for her.

  “Hey, kiddo.” Elena knelt, then wrapped her arms around the wriggling little girl. She held tight to Faith as she looked up at Brent. “You should have woken me. I didn’t mean to camp out in your living room. Sorry.”

  “No worries. You looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to disturb you.” Not exactly the truth, but it would do.

  “I had the strangest dream,” she said, making his stomach tighten. Surely she hadn’t really been awake.

  “Yeah? What was it?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t remember. Just that it was strange. But nice.” She flashed that wide, beautiful smile, and he felt himself go weak in the knees. He really did have it bad. Damn.

  “I was sorry you were gone when I woke up,” he said, though the words had escaped of their own accord, and he immediately wished he could call them back.

  “Yeah?” She didn’t look freaked out by the strange admission. Instead, she looked pleased.

  “I make a waffle to rival your dad’s. I’d planned to make one for you, too.”

  Her whole face seemed to glow. “That’s so sweet. Any morning you want to make one for me, just say so.”

  He swallowed, trying to clear his head. But everything with this woman seemed to have a double meaning, and he was undoubtedly going to dig himself a very deep hole.

  “Right. Well, I need to run. Thanks for coming early today. I’m trying to follow up some leads about those taggers.” Specifically, he was going to go over the security footage that Landon had managed to get from the other nearby establishments.

  Her brow furrowed. “Aren’t the police handling it?”

  “They are. But I’m doing what I can. I used to be one of the police, remember?”

  “A detective. I know. More’s the pity.”

  He peered at her, confused. “What?”

  “Detectives don’t wear uniforms.” Her voice had gone deeper, and just a little husky. “And I bet you looked great in a uniform.”

  He took a single step toward her. “What are you doing, Elena?”

  She glanced down, but when she looked up again, he saw strength in those chocolate brown eyes. “Just being honest. You said I was pretty, remember? I think we’re even now.”

  He said nothing.

  “Do you miss it?”

  He shook his head, confused.

  “Being a detective,” she clarified.

  He waited a beat before answering, then nodded. “Yeah. I do. But it’s a hazardous job. I have more important responsibilities.”

  “Yes, you do. And you don’t take many risks, do you, Brent?”

  He looked her straight in the eye, his heart pounding in protest of his words. “No, Elena. I really don’t.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Thanks for helping me with this,” Elena said to her dad as she checked the temperature of the two round yellow cakes she’d pulled from the oven in Tyree’s kitchen an hour ago.

  “Cool enough to frost?” he asked.

  “Yup,” she said. Faith had told her and Brent that she wanted a homemade cake for her party tomorrow, and when Brent told Elena that he’d yet to make a cake that wasn’t lopsided and dry, she’d volunteered. Then she’d roped in her dad.

  “You don’t have to thank me. We’ve been cooking together enough these past few months, so you should know I’m happy to do it. For you and for Faith.”

  “Not for Brent?” As soon as she asked the question, she regretted it. She’d been on pins and needles around Tyree for almost a week now, ever since she started babysitting for Brent.

  For that matter, she’d been cool and distant around Brent, too, her own demeanor matching his. The electricity still crackled between them, but ever since he’d shut down their flirtation on Sunday, he’d been coolly polite. To her face, anyway.

  Every once in a while she’d catch him looking at her in a way that set her body humming. But those moments lasted only seconds, and only when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. And two nights ago she’d awakened when he’d come into the house at a quarter to four. She’d pretended to be asleep, though, and when he sat on the coffee table just inches from where she lay on the couch, she’d been terrified that the wild pounding of her heart would give her away.

  After a few moments, he’d rested his hand on her bare shoulder where the sleeve of her oversized T-shirt had slipped off. His touch had lingered for a few seconds longer than necessary before he’d gently shaken her as he whispered her name. She’d pretended to rouse groggily from a deep sleep, but at the time, she’d never felt so awake, and even now she could recall the sensation of his hand against her bare skin.

  She wanted more, and she felt her cheeks heat as she quickly concentrated on measuring the confectioner’s sugar.

  Beside her, Tyree hesitated before he measured out the cocoa and poured it into the mixing bowl. Just a minor hitch, and she would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking. But she had been.

  “Daddy?”

  He turned to her, a tight smile on his kind face.

  “What is it?” she pressed.

  He sighed, then reached for the butter. “We need to cream these together.”

  “You know that
’s not what I meant. What about doing it for Brent?”

  “You really want to have this conversation?” His voice was level, but she could hear the frustration underneath.

  No, she really didn’t.

  “Yes,” she said firmly. “I do.”

  He exhaled. “Fine. What’s going on with you two?”

  “Nothing.” She spat the word out, unprepared for him to actually dive straight to the heart of the matter.

  His brows rose and she took an involuntary step back.

  “Honest,” she said, crossing her heart. “There’s nothing going on.”

  “Good,” Tyree said. “Keep it that way.”

  She frowned. As far as she could tell, she had no choice in that regard. She’d been babysitting Faith now for one entire week, and although the tension between her and Brent kept getting thicker and thicker, he hadn’t made a single move. And, of course, neither had she.

  Maybe it was just her imagination.

  It couldn’t be her imagination.

  Could it?

  “Elena?”

  She turned to see him regarding her, his expression unreadable. He said nothing, and neither did she. A standoff, apparently. And she was the one who lost, because ultimately she just couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s wrong with him? I mean, I thought he was your friend.”

  “And I thought there was nothing between you.”

  “You got that right. He has zero interest in having anything to do with me.”

  He hesitated before beating in the sugar and milk. “You, however, are hovering somewhere above zero?”

  She didn’t answer. Just looked at him defiantly until his shoulders moved, as if he was shifting a weighty burden.

  “Brent’s a good friend and one of the best men I know. Smart and loyal and kind.”

  “Then what?”

  “Ah, mon bijou. He’s almost ten years older than you.”

  “So? You and Mom were young.”

  “Don’t pretend to be naive, Elena. I haven’t known you long, but I know you well. And I know that you have aspirations. Dreams. And those dreams don’t involve staying in Austin.”