Brett Page 18

  A scramble of young feet made her shove her dreams back into the deep freeze where they belonged. She propped up a drooping smile and swung to face the yawning mouth of the bus where the tip of a long, thin rod appeared. It was followed closely by a grade schooler who took extreme care not to bend or break the slender graphite. Each participant in the fishing derby would receive a pole and tackle box, courtesy of a generous donation from Tom’s Marina, but these lingerers carried their own. And they were exceptional, she noted as the last two boys tromped off the bus.

  “So, you’re fly fishermen, are you?” The older boy stood with a cocked hip and a smirk that made him look a whole lot cuter than he probably intended while the little one beamed a wide, toothy grin her way. “Which one of you is going to win today’s contest?”

  The youngest gave an oddly endearing shrug before he thrust his fly rod forward. “Like it?” he asked. “It’s cool, ain’t it?”

  “Very cool,” Stephanie managed, staring down at a smaller version of the rod she had used fishing with Brett. She hefted the cork grip, tilting the pole instinctively so the finish caught the glinting sun and turned brilliant. Why, of all the colors in the world, did these have to be that same incandescent green? With trembling fingers, she handed the rod back to its owner.

  “He made ’em. For my brother an’ me.”

  The smirker nodded over his shoulder just as two long legs swung into the dark stairwell of the bus. Sounds from the beach faded and Stephanie’s world telescoped onto the doorway. Her eyes slid up a pair of rapidly appearing muscular thighs, sped past a trim waist and landed on shoulders broad enough to carry the world.

  “I’m over him,” she breathed.

  Good ole Sol disagreed. The sun dropped a fraction lower, sending a shaft of light into the dark hollow, illuminating the strong jaw and bright blue eyes she saw in her dreams almost every night. The sight stole her breath.

  “Brett.” She nodded. She didn’t know where the cool, polite voice came from. It certainly wasn’t hers. Hers would squeak and ride up and down on her thudding heartbeat.

  “Stephanie.”

  That Brett would show up chaperoning two young boys was so far off her radar it wasn’t even a blip. She mustered as much nonchalance as an aching heart would allow and tightened her grip on the clipboard so she wouldn’t fly into his arms. Such a move would only lead to more heartbreak, and she did not want to get burned again. She took a breath, hoping to calm her racing pulse.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here.” The understatement of the year quivered so much that she sharpened her tone in self-defense. “Get roped into volunteering?”

  “Back off, sister,” piped the older kid.

  Brett settled one hand on his shoulder. “Remember your manners, Jimmy,” he said softly. “We talked about that.”

  The boy scuffed a foot through the sand in a motion too like Brett’s to be coincidental. “Sorry,” the child mumbled.

  “I’ve been working with PAL for a while now,” Brett said.

  Long enough to build each of the boys his own fly rod, Stephanie realized, the earlier comment making more sense. She turned aside, aiming a quick look at the bus where someone had used teal spray paint to write Police Athletic League against the white background. PAL, the mystery group. Knowing she should have guessed, she felt her face redden.

  “I’m sorry, too,” she said. She had a number of regrets—none bigger than her breakup with Brett.

  “Hey, we’re okay. Aren’t we, boys?” Brett’s jaw worked. “Jimmy, Joey, this is Ms. Bryant. And this—” he waved a hand “—is her shindig. Looks like a great one, doesn’t it?”

  From the way his eyes roamed over her when he didn’t think she was looking, Brett plainly meant more than the cookout. The boys, however, took his words literally. They quickly scanned the carnival-like atmosphere, their mouths gaping open when they spotted the food pavilion where a battalion of volunteers flipped burgers and stirred onions and peppers on massive steel grills.

  “I’m hungry.” Joey tugged the hem of Brett’s white polo until the teal-blue PAL insignia dipped.

  “Okay, man,” Brett said agreeably.

  The older boy kicked a little sand. “I could eat,” he announced.

  Joey elbowed his brother. “I want to go on the rides.”

  Brett lifted his shoulders in an offhand way. “We’ll do it all,” he assured the boys before turning up the wattage on a smile so bright it blinded Stephanie no matter where she looked. “They just want to have fun. See you around.”

  “See you,” she mouthed. The trio moved off, leaving her to stare after them. Breathless and hungry for something that was not cooking on the grills, she studied the crowd of Space Tech employees, their families and invited guests.

  It didn’t take a genius to know she was in the wrong place at the wrong time to pant after Brett like a lovesick puppy. If she could remember just ten good reasons why involvement with Brett was a bad idea, she’d be able to wrench her eyes away from his broad shoulders and slim hips. Ten more, and she’d forget how safe and protected she felt in his arms. One or two after that, and she might not recall every small kindness he had showered upon her, or the way his eyes sparkled whenever she walked into a room.

  Her thoughts slowed. Time and reasoning would never help her forget. Seeing Brett Lincoln would always shatter the barriers she had constructed around her broken heart.

  She had to get away.

  Okay, the move to Washington offered a lot more than she’d originally thought. She could live in the nation’s capital, where the town’s most famous Lincoln wouldn’t make her heart ache. The transfer even came with a major promotion, one she’d spent years working toward.

  So why had she turned it down again?

  The answer was guiding his charges down the sidewalk. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see him. Sometimes, you simply didn’t get what you wanted. This was one of those times.

  “Stephanie.”

  The familiar voice slowed the wrecking ball that Brett had aimed at her heart. One look at Mary’s concerned face and Stephanie did not even try to wave off her friend.

  As a mother of twins, Mary had learned not to waste time or words. “I saw Brett. Are you okay? You didn’t know he’d be here?”

  Blindly Stephanie shook her head. Because her ex-boyfriend was Tom’s best friend, she and Mary made a point of steering their frequent conversations around Brett, but having this little piece of info up front would have been nice. The way it was, the advantage was all his.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” Mary said when she did not answer. “I thought you knew. He’s been working with PAL for weeks.”

  “Don’t worry.” Stephanie straightened her shoulders and firmed her flagging resolutions enough to reassure Mary, if not herself. “With this turnout, I can avoid him and the rest of the PAL contingent for one afternoon.”

  Mary shook her head. “I don’t know about that, Steph. Brett really cares for those boys. Takes them fishing and to all sorts of things. I think you’ll see a lot more of those three today.”

  That didn’t sound like the Brett she knew.

  Her breath tight within her chest, Stephanie turned toward the food pavilion where she expected Brett to dump the boys so he and his other buddies from the Police Athletic League could hang out together. Instead, the man of her dreams shadowed Jimmy and Joey’s every step. Ignoring the group of chaperones gathered at the picnic tables, he shepherded the brothers through the food lines. After Mary returned to her own family, Stephanie watched him lead the way to the games. When she collected tickets at the moon bounce, Brett was right there, daring a reluctant Joey into gleeful handsprings while teasing smiles from his older brother. Throughout the day, he never strayed from their sides, or drifted from her thoughts. Until, by the time Ralinda paged her to the pavilion, Stephanie had reached the unmistakable conclusion that she’d been wrong.

  Everything had changed.

  They sat
shoulder to shoulder on folding chairs under the split-cedar shingles of the big pavilion with Brett’s two charges on one side and Tom’s family spread out on the other. Brett folded his copy of the schedule of events into quarters, and then into eighths. The agenda called for Stephanie to give the farewell speech—her farewell speech—before she cut the ribbon to let everyone into the big tent for the ice cream sundae feast. After that came the fishing derby, and then the day would finally be over. He could hold it together till then. The boys deserved that much.

  “We have to sit through a speech before we get some ice cream. And we have to listen politely and clap at the end of it.” Even if every word twisted the knife in his gut.

  “Okay, guys?”

  “Who’s gonna talk?” Jimmy demanded.

  “Ms. Bryant. You met her at the bus.” He thought he had been psyched up for the meeting, but one glimpse of Stephanie had ripped his wounded heart wide open.

  “That pretty lady with her hair pulled back?” asked the younger brother.

  Pretty wasn’t the word for it. Even dressed in a loose T-shirt and a pair of long shorts, she still sent his pulse into overdrive. As for that ponytail, his fingers ached to free her hair and shake out the curls she had tamed and smoothed.

  “That’s the one.”

  “I like her. She’s nice,” pronounced a yawning Joey. Four hours of bumper cars, the moon bounce and the trampoline, plus three-legged races and countless carnival games had tired the little guy. Brett pulled him close. An infusion of sugar, and the kid would be right back in the thick of things. He’d have to watch him like a daddy eagle then.

  “I like her, too, buddy,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “But she’s giving a speech, and then she’s moving far away.”

  “My daddy went far away. He’s in heaven.”

  Joey’s remark earned a derisive snort from his big brother, but Brett saw hurt burn in the hooded eyes. Moments later, the younger boy’s eyelids drifted closed and his chin sank to his chest. Brett draped an arm around him, a motion that caught the twins’ attention.

  Barbara scrambled out of her seat and onto Brett’s lap, framing his face with her two little hands. “No, Unca Brett. No boys,” she whispered sternly.

  It was all Brett could do not to laugh. “It’s okay, sweetie,” he said. He shifted Joey enough to make room for both girls. “See? Plenty of room. For boys and girls.”

  Barbara gave him a dubious look before snuggling into his arms without, he noticed, touching Joey. Brenda had other ideas.

  “Miss Steppy, too,” she demanded.

  Knowing the little girl didn’t really mean to plunge the knife so deep, Brett let out a long slow breath. “No, honey.” He softened his tone. “Not Miss Steppy.”

  Gentle words or not, Brenda’s lower lip began to tremble. The motion was a sure sign of impending tears, and Brett didn’t try to stop her when she clambered to the floor and back to her mother’s arms. She buried her head in Mary’s embrace, refusing to glance in her traitorous uncle’s direction. Brett swallowed a few tears of his own and hugged Barbara closer until a burst of applause drowned the roar of the surf.

  Ten rows in front of them, Stephanie stepped onto center stage.

  Here we go. Brett stiffened his shoulders and tightened his stomach.

  When she tapped the mike, waited out the last splatters of applause and promised to keep her remarks short, he hoped she was lying because the longer she spoke, the longer she’d be around. Wondering if anyone else would miss her when she was gone, he spared a quick look at the gathered faces. The smiles told him that the head of human resources had endeared herself to her employees during her short tenure. How, then, could they let her go?

  How could he? He had stared down the barrel of a gun without flinching, but the thought of losing Stephanie forever made him shake like a palm tree in a hurricane.

  With a start, he realized he’d been drifting and she had come to the heart of her speech. He eased his chair back on two legs and braced himself.

  “And now, I have some good news and some bad news. At least, it’s good news for our D.C. office.”

  If they were at a wedding, this was the point where the minister would ask if anyone objected. And I’d be on my feet shouting, thought Brett. He no longer bothered trying to figure out why his thoughts turned to weddings whenever Stephanie was in the vicinity. The answer seemed all too obvious.

  “Everyone knows John Sanders. Stand up, John.”

  Brett’s forehead knotted as a man with glowing white hair and a patrician face surged to his feet with the help of a cane. He gave a slight bow.

  “Many of you know that John lives right here in Brevard County and, even though he retired a few years ago, he has remained an integral part of the Space Tech family. So much so that we’ve persuaded him to come out of retirement.”

  While everyone else applauded the good news, Brett ground his teeth. He was pretty sure the old guy was going to step into Stephanie’s job so she could leave for Washington.

  “What’s the bad news, you ask?” Stephanie paused until she regained everyone’s attention. “John has agreed to take on one of Space Tech’s biggest challenges. He’ll be moving to our nation’s capital where he’ll direct all of our efforts to become the country’s number one supplier of advanced communications and networking solutions. I hope you’ll join me in wishing good luck and a fond farewell to the man we all consider our close friend.”

  She. Wasn’t. Leaving.

  “Be cool,” Brett breathed. Wanting to bolt out of his chair, rush through the crowd and demand answers, he waited until Stephanie finished before the front legs of his chair hit the floor. “Be cool.”

  Cool. He could do that. In spite of the flickering hope that threatened to turn into a raging wildfire, he could be totally cool. In fact, he was the picture of coolness.

  He shifted Barbara to Tom’s lap, shot his friend an offhand look and, in return, got a hearty clap on the back.

  “I’ve got the boys,” Tom said. “We’ll get ice cream. You go get her.”

  Brett was determined to do just that. Scattering apologies, he wove through the crowd that surged toward the ice cream tent until he reached the spot where he had last seen Stephanie. True, he faced an uncool moment when he couldn’t immediately find her, but the feeling quickly passed. The woman who haunted his dreams and was never far from his thoughts leaned against one of the wooden supports for the pavilion’s vaulted ceiling.

  Brett’s feet slowed. He thirsted for a long look at her the way a man in the desert thirsted for water. When he realized she hadn’t spotted him, he eased to one side and drank his fill.

  Gone were the designer duds and strappy heels that revved his motor. She’d replaced them with off-the-rack Bermudas and a blousy Space Tech T-shirt that let her blend into the crowd and hid how special she was. Despite the casual get-up, Brett thought she looked sexier than ever. He swallowed and let his eyes roam where they wanted. They sought a pair of big blues that had once looked at him so tenderly. Behind them, he knew, lay fierce independence and the intelligence and determination to get what she wanted. She could go anywhere, have anything, including Space Tech’s highest position. So why had she turned away from the very opportunity that had brought her to Florida and into his life?

  Would she tell him? He looked expectantly at her pert lips.

  Recalling the feel of them pressed against his own, her mouth opening to him, the dance of her small tongue with his, he wondered if they could ever again have what they’d lost.

  Stephanie.

  Her name whispered through him. He wanted the whole package—love, marriage, a family of their own. He’d do whatever it took to make that happen, grovel if he had to. Anything to hold her in his arms and earn a second chance.

  Whoa, big guy. Be cool, reminded his inner voice.

  Brett nodded. He flexed his fingers while he practiced the deep breathing he used on the gun range. Aiming for calm, he settled for margi
nally looser than hair-trigger tight. Any more deep breaths than that, and he was likely to hyperventilate. As it was, the ten steps to her side were the longest strides of his life.

  “We need to talk,” he announced. He missed his coolest voice by a couple of octaves, but it was close enough. “Why didn’t you tell me you were staying?”

  She spun toward him, a flare of hope showing in her eyes before protective armor dropped into place to hide it. Her arms crossed and she seemed to sink into the pillar, but her eyes did not waver as she faced him.

  “What gave you the idea I was leaving?”

  “Your sec—” Not wanting to cause any trouble, he started over. “I stopped by your office a couple of weeks ago. While I was there, I heard a rumor—”

  “Oh? No one mentioned—”

  She left the sentence unfinished, steering the conversation away from a path that would sidetrack both of them.

  “John offered me the D.C. position. I turned it down. Turns out I’m not as committed to becoming Space Tech’s CEO as I thought I was.”

  “And you’re not going back to Ohio?” he asked. He stilled, not daring to move until he had her answer.

  “I like it here,” she said. “I think I can build a good life here.”

  He propped his hands, shoulder-width apart, above her on the pillar. She could walk away at any minute, but his stance formed a protective cave that announced “Keep Out” to anyone who might interrupt.

  “You think that life could include me?” he asked, barely able to get the words out. A sheen of tears quickly extinguished the tiny spark of warmth he saw in her eyes.

  “No,” she said simply.

  Coolness was highly overrated. Someone who was truly cool would never ask the question that leaped from his lips.

  “Why?”

  He refused to look away, even as her words sliced through his heart.

  “You’re the reason I nearly accepted the transfer. Even though we’ve never said it, I know we love each other. But I need more than that. I need to be first in your life. I won’t settle for anything less.”