Unfinished Business

  She turned away quickly and walked to one of the windows. “When do you think you’ll have it finished?”

  “We’re shooting for September.” He frowned at her back. He hadn’t thought of her when he’d designed the house, when he’d chosen the wood, the tiles, the colors. Why was it that now that she was here it was as if the house had been waiting for her? As if he’d been waiting for her? “Van?”

  “Yes,” she answered, keeping her back to him. Her stomach was in knots, her fingers were twisted. When he said nothing else, she forced herself to turn, made her lips curve. “It’s a fabulous place, Brady. I’m glad you showed it to me. I hope I get the chance to see it when it’s done.”

  He wasn’t going to ask her if she was going to stay. He didn’t want to know. He couldn’t let it matter. But he knew that there was unfinished business between them, and he had to settle it, at least in his own mind.

  He crossed to her slowly. He saw the awareness come into her eyes with his first step. She would have backed away if there had been anywhere to go.

  “Don’t,” she said when he took her arms.

  “This is going to hurt me as much as it does you.”

  He touched his lips to hers, testing. And felt her shudder. Her taste, just that brief taste, made him burn. Again he kissed her, lingering over it only seconds longer. This time he heard her moan. His hands slid up her arms to cup her face. When his mouth took hers again, the testing was over.

  It did hurt. She felt the ache through every bone and muscle. And damn him, she felt the pleasure. A pleasure she had lived without for too long. Greedy for it, she pulled him closer and let the war rage frantically inside her.

  She was no longer kissing a boy, however clever and passionate that boy had been. She wasn’t kissing a memory, no matter how rich and clear that memory had been. It was a man she held now. A strong, hungry man who knew her much too well.

  When her lips parted for his, she knew what he would taste like. As her hands dug into his shoulders, she knew the feel of those muscles. With the scent of sawdust around them, and the light gentle through the glass, she felt herself rocked back and forth between the past and present.

  She was all he remembered, and more. He had always been generous, always passionate, but there seemed to be more innocence now than there had been before. It was there, sweet, beneath the simmer of desire. Her body trembled even as it strained against his.

  The dreams he thought he had forgotten flooded back. And with them the needs, the frustrations, the hopes, of his youth.

  It was her. It had always been her. And yet it had never been.

  Shaken, he pulled back and held her at arm’s length. The color had risen over her cheekbones. Her eyes had darkened, clouded, in that way that had always made him churn. Her lips were parted, soft, unpainted. His hands were lost, as they had been countless times before, in her hair.

  And the feeling was the same. He could have murdered her for it. Twelve years hadn’t diluted the emotion she could pull out of him with a look.

  “I was afraid of that,” he murmured. He needed to keep sane, he told himself. He needed to think. “You always could stop my heart, Vanessa.”

  “This is stupid.” Breathless, she stepped back. “We’re not children anymore.”

  He dipped his hands in his pockets. “Exactly.”

  She ran an unsteady hand through her hair. “Brady, this was over a long time ago.”

  “Apparently not. Could be we just have to get it out of our systems.”

  “My system’s just fine,” she told him. It was a lie. “You’ll have to worry about your own. I’m not interested in climbing into the back seat with you again.”

  “That might be interesting.” He surprised himself by smiling, and meaning it. “But I had more comfortable surroundings in mind.”

  “Whatever the surroundings, the answer’s still no.”

  She started toward the steps, and he took her by the arm. “You were sixteen the last time you said no.” Slowly, though impatience simmered through him, he turned her to face him. “As much as I regret it, I have to say you were right. Times have changed, and we’re all grown up now.”

  Her heart was beating too fast, she thought. His fault. He had always been able to tie her into knots. “Just because we’re adults doesn’t mean I’ll jump in your bed.”

  “It does mean that I’ll take the time and make the effort to change your mind.”

  “You are still an egotistical idiot, Brady.”

  “And you still call me names when you know I’m right.” He pulled her close for a hard, brief kiss. “I still want you, Van. And this time, by God, I’m going to have you.”

  She saw the truth of it in his eyes before she jerked away. She felt the truth of it inside herself. “Go to hell.”

  She turned and rushed down the stairs.

  He watched from the window as she raced across the bridge to her car. Even with the distance, he heard her slam the door. It made him grin. She’d always had a devil of a temper. He was glad to see it still held true.

  Chapter 4

  She pounded the keys. Tchaikovsky. The first piano concerto. The first movement. Hers was a violently passionate interpretation of the romantic theme. She wanted the violence, wanted to let it pour out from inside her and into the music.

  He’d had no right. No right to bring everything back. To force her to face feelings she’d wanted to forget. Feelings she’d forgotten. Worse, he’d shown her how much deeper, how much more raw and intense, those feelings could be now that she was a woman.

  He meant nothing to her. Could be nothing more to her than an old acquaintance, a friend of her childhood. She would not be hurt by him again. And she would never—never—allow anyone to have the kind of power over her that Brady had once had.

  The feelings would pass, because she would make them pass. If there was one thing she had learned through all these years of work and travel, it was that she and she alone was responsible for her emotions.

  She stopped playing, letting her fingers rest on the keys. While she might not have been able to claim serenity, she was grateful that she had been able to exorcise most of the anger and frustration through her music.

  “Vanessa?”

  She turned her head to see her mother standing in the doorway. “I didn’t know you were home.”

  “I came in while you were playing.” Loretta took a step forward. She was dressed as she had been that morning, in her sleek suit and pearls, but her face showed a hesitant concern. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Vanessa lifted a hand to push back her hair. Looking at her mother, she felt flushed, untidy and vulnerable. Automatically, defensively, she straightened her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I guess I lost track of the time.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Loretta blocked off the urge to move closer and smooth her daughter’s hair herself. “Mrs. Driscoll stopped by the shop before I closed. She mentioned that she saw you going into Ham Tucker’s house.”

  “She still has an eagle eye, I see.”

  “And a big nose.” Loretta’s smile was hesitant. “You saw Ham, then.”

  “Yes.” Vanessa turned on the stool, but didn’t rise. “He looks wonderful, almost unchanged. We had some pie and tea in the kitchen.”

  “I’m glad you had a chance to visit with him. He’s always been so fond of you.”

  “I know.” She took a bracing breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you were involved with him?”

  Loretta lifted a hand to her pearls and twisted the strand nervously. “I suppose I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. To explain. I thought you might be…might feel awkward about seeing him again if you knew we were…” She let her words trail off, certain the word dating would be out of place at her age.

  Vanessa merely lifted a brow. “Maybe you thought it was none of my business.”

  “No.” Her hand fell to her side. “Oh, Van…”

  “Well, it isn’t, after all.” Slow
ly, deliberately, Vanessa patched up the cracks in her shield. “You and my father had been divorced for years before he died. You’re certainly free to choose your own companions.”

  The censure in her daughter’s voice had Loretta’s spine straightening. There were many things, many, that she regretted, that had caused her shame. Her relationship with Abraham Tucker wasn’t one of them.

  “You’re absolutely right,” she said, her voice cool. “I’m not embarrassed, and I certainly don’t feel guilty, about seeing Ham. We’re adults, and both of us are free.” The tilt of her chin as she spoke was very like her daughter’s. “Perhaps I felt odd about what started between us, because of Emily. She had been my oldest and dearest friend. But Emily was gone, and both Ham and I were alone. And maybe the fact that we both had loved Emily had something to do with our growing closer. I’m very proud that he cares for me,” she said, color dotting her cheeks. “In the past few years, he’s given me something I’ve never had from another man. Understanding.”

  She turned and hurried up the stairs. She was standing in front of her dresser, removing her jewelry, when Vanessa came in.

  “I apologize if I seemed too critical.”

  Loretta slapped the pearls down on the wood. “I don’t want you to apologize like some polite stranger, Vanessa. You’re my daughter. I’d rather you shouted at me. I’d rather you slammed doors or stormed into your room the way you used to.”

  “I nearly did.” She walked farther into the room, running a hand over the back of a small, tufted chair. Even that was new, she thought—the little blue lady’s chair that so suited the woman who was her mother. Calmer now, and more than a little ashamed, she chose her next words carefully. “I don’t resent your relationship with Dr. Tucker. Really. It surprised me, certainly. And what I said before is true. It’s none of my business.”

  “Van—”

  “No, please.” Vanessa held up a hand. “When I first drove into town, I thought nothing had changed. But I was wrong. It’s difficult to accept that. It’s difficult to accept that you moved on so easily.”

  “Moved on, yes,” Loretta said. “But not easily.”

  Vanessa looked up, passion in her eyes. “Why did you let me go?”

  “I had no choice,” Loretta said simply. “And at the time I tried to believe it was what was best for you. What you wanted.”

  “What I wanted?” The anger she wanted so badly to control seeped out as bitterness. “Did anyone ever ask me what I wanted?”

  “I tried. In every letter I wrote you, I begged you to tell me if you were happy, if you wanted to come home. When you sent them back unopened, I knew I had my answer.”

  The color ran into and then out of Vanessa’s face as she stared at Loretta. “You never wrote me.”

  “I wrote you for years, hoping that you might find the compassion to open at least one.”

  “There were no letters,” Vanessa said, very deliberately, her hands clenching and unclenching.

  Without a word, Loretta went over to an enameled trunk at the foot of her bed. She drew out a deep box and removed the lid. “I kept them,” she said.

  Vanessa looked in and saw dozens of letters, addressed to her at hotels throughout Europe and the States. Her stomach convulsing, she took careful breaths and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “You never saw them, did you?” Loretta murmured. Vanessa could only shake her head. “He would deny me even such a little thing as a letter.” With a sigh, Loretta set the box back in the trunk.”

  “Why?” Vanessa’s throat was raw. “Why did he stop me from seeing your letters?”

  “Maybe he thought I would interfere with your career.” After a moment’s hesitation, Loretta touched her shoulder. “He was wrong. I would never have stopped you from reaching for something you wanted and deserved so much. He was, in his way, protecting you and punishing me.”

  “For what?”

  Loretta turned and walked to the window.

  “Damn it, I have a right to know.” Fury had her on her feet and taking a step forward. Then, with an involuntary gasp, she was clutching her stomach.

  “Van?” Loretta took her shoulders, moving her gently back to the bed. “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing.” She gritted her teeth against the grinding pain. It infuriated her that it could incapacitate her, even for a moment, in front of someone else. “Just a spasm.”

  “I’m going to call Ham.”

  “No.” Vanessa grabbed her arm. Her long musician’s fingers were strong and firm. “I don’t need a doctor. It’s just stress.” She kept one hand balled at her side and struggled to get past the pain. “And I stood up too fast.” Very carefully, she relaxed her hand.

  “Then it won’t hurt to have him look at you.” Loretta draped an arm over her shoulders. “Van, you’re so thin.”

  “I’ve had a lot to deal with in the last year.” Vanessa kept her words measured. “A lot of tension. Which is why I’ve decided to take a few months off.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I know how I feel. And I’m fine.”

  Loretta removed her arm when she heard Vanessa’s dismissive tone. “All right, then. You’re not a child anymore.”

  “No, I’m not.” She folded her hands in her lap as Loretta rose. “I’d like an answer. What was my father punishing you for?”

  Loretta seemed to brace herself, but her voice was calm and strong when she spoke. “For betraying him with another man.”

  For a moment, Vanessa could only stare. Here was her mother, her face pale but set, confessing to adultery. “You had an affair?” Vanessa asked at length.

  “Yes.” Shame rushed through her. But she knew she could deal with it. She’d lived with shame for years. “There was someone… It hardly matters now who it was. I was involved with him for almost a year before you went to Europe.”

  “I see.”

  Loretta gave a short, brittle laugh. “Oh, I’m sure you do. So I won’t bother to offer you any excuses or explanations. I broke my vows, and I’ve been paying for it for twelve years.”

  Vanessa lifted her head, torn between wanting to understand and wanting to condemn. “Did you love him?”

  “I needed him. There’s a world of difference.”

  “You didn’t marry again.”

  “No.” Loretta felt no regret at that, just a vague ache, as from an old scar that had been bumped once too often. “Marriage wasn’t something either of us wanted at the time.”

  “Then it was just for sex.” Vanessa pressed her fingers against her eyes. “You cheated on your husband just for sex.”

  A flurry of emotions raced over Loretta’s face before she calmed it again. “That’s the least common denominator. Maybe, now that you’re a woman, you’ll understand, even if you can’t forgive.”

  “I don’t understand anything.” Vanessa stood. It was foolish to want to weep for something that was over and done. “I need to think. I’m going for a drive.”

  Alone, Loretta sat on the edge of the bed and let her own tears fall.

  She drove for hours, aimlessly. She spent most of the time negotiating curving back roads lined with budding wildflowers and arching trees. Some of the old farms had been sold and subdivided since she’d been here last. Houses and yards crisscrossed over what had once been sprawling corn or barley fields. She felt a pang of loss on seeing them. The same kind of pang she felt when she thought of her family.

  She wondered if she would have been able to understand the lack of fidelity if it had been some other woman. Would she have been able to give a sophisticated little shrug and agree that the odd affair was just a part of life? She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been raised to see a sanctified state. And it wasn’t some other woman. It was her mother.

  It was late when she found herself turning into Brady’s lane. She didn’t know why she’d come here, come to him, of all people. But she needed someone to listen. Someone who cared.

  The lights were on. She could hear th
e dog barking from inside the house at the sound of her car. Slowly she retraced the steps she had taken that evening. When she had run from him, and from her own feelings. Before she could knock, Brady was at the door. He took a long look at her through the glass before pulling it open.

  “Hi.”

  “I was out driving.” She felt so completely stupid that she took a step back. “I’m sorry. It’s late.”