Granted: A Family for Baby Page 4

  “What on earth,” she murmured to herself as she stood looking down at the two of them. What a picture they made, the large, muscular man with his arms around the little blond boy. The boy’s face was pressed against Brady’s broad chest. Suzy stood there for a long moment, unwilling to break the mood, to spoil the picture. Her heart swelled, and she blinked back a tear. If she’d ever doubted that Travis needed a father, her doubts vanished in those few moments before she carefully extricated Travis from Brady’s grasp and carried him in to bed.

  Brady grunted, rolled over and burrowed his face into the back of the couch wishing that someone would turn off the lights so he could get some sleep. The next thing he knew someone was gently covering him with a lightweight afghan. He turned over and blinked up at Suzy. Suzy looking soft and cuddly in a fluffy pink terry cloth robe. What was she doing there?

  And then it came back to him. Travis and Suzy and Suzy’s date. He sat up straight. “What happened?” he asked. He wanted to say, “What happened to the black dress?”

  “That’s just what I was going to ask you,” she said, crossing her arms over her waist. “What happened here tonight?”

  He squinted and ran his hand through his hair as things came into focus. “We were playing around. I was going to clean up, but I guess I fell asleep. Where’s Travis?”

  “In bed.”

  He nodded as if he understood, but he didn’t. He didn’t remember putting Travis to bed, and he hadn’t heard Suzy come home. Or seen her change out of her dress and into her robe. Had Allan come in, had he kissed her good-night, that no-good scum, while he slept on the couch?

  “How was your date?” he asked, wondering how her hair had fallen back into her normal casual style, studying her mouth, trying to decide if her lipstick was smudged.

  “Fine.”

  “That’s all...fine? Was he husband-and-father material?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know,” she said, leaning over to pick up a soft, stuffed animal off the floor. “He wanted me to fly to Vegas with him tomorrow.”

  “Vegas? With him?” Brady sat up straight and stared at her, wondering what, if anything, she wore under that robe. “You’re not going are you?”

  “No,” she said, and Brady exhaled a sigh of relief.

  “Good,” he said, “because that guy was not right for you.”

  “How do you know?” she asked, placing the plush toy into Travis’s toy box. “You only saw him for two minutes.”

  “That’s all it took,” he said smugly, getting to his feet and scooping up a handful of cards that were scattered on the floor.

  “Then you’ll know who’s right for me, too.”

  “Sure. Of course. No problem.” He stuffed the cards into a box and handed them to her. His hand brushed hers and a jolt of adrenaline hit him right in the middle of his chest. Suzy blinked. Did she feel it, too? Was that a faint tinge of red in her cheeks?

  He wondered if she was very disappointed that Allan was not the man she was looking for. He wanted to tell her she was too good for him. Too good for any man he knew. But it was late, and she’d just think he had ulterior motives. “Go to bed,” he said. “I’ll clean this stuff up. I’m the one who made the mess.” ,

  “I suppose Travis had something to do with it,” she said.

  “Yeah, but he’s not good at picking things up. We tried that.”

  “Leave it. You’ve already done enough for me. How can I repay you for tonight?” she asked.

  He stood and noticed there were dark smudges under her eyes. He brushed a strand of blond hair off her forehead. His fingers grazed her petal-soft skin. “I’ll think of something,” he said and then he walked quickly out the front door. Before he did something stupid.

  Chapter Three

  On Monday morning Brady gave a talk at the Grange to the farmer and rancher’s union about poaching. Then he went to the women’s quilting group where he explained how the crime statistics had declined in Harmony under his administration. After that he met with the PTA after school to talk to parents about crime prevention. All the while he thought about Suzy back at the office addressing flyers to every registered voter in the county.

  By the time he headed back there his head ached and his throat hurt, but nevertheless he was feeling pretty good, until he saw a new poster plastered to the side of the general store with a picture of Darryl Staples and his family—two children and an adoring wife.

  He stopped the car and stared at it while he imagined his own picture where Darryl’s was. As if he was the married candidate with two kids. If he was, would he be a shoo-in for reelection? Not that he’d stoop to getting married to win an election. Damn that guy, anyway, for putting it into his head.

  He threw the office door open and shouted to Suzy. She came out of her office, dressed in a trim pants outfit and a scarf around her neck in gold and green which exactly matched her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Everything. Did you see the poster?”

  “Of Staples? Yes, I saw it. Look, there’s nothing to worry about. You have your record to stand on. Everybody knows you. Everybody likes you. What does he have that you don’t, anyway?”

  “He has a wife and two kids for starters. Don’t tell me voters don’t respond to that, I know they do.”

  “So get married.”

  “Get serious.”

  “I’m sorry,” Suzy said. “I should know better than to bring up marriage with you.”

  “I’ve been married, you haven’t,” he reminded her. “You think it will solve all your problems. It won’t. Marriage can cause more problems. You have no idea or you wouldn’t be so set on it.”

  “You’ve never talked about your marriage,” she said. “I just assumed...”

  “You assumed it was my fault for being hard to get along with? Well, you assumed right. Lawmen make lousy husbands. They’re never around. Their minds are on their work. They forget birthdays and anniversaries. They forget to come home at night when they’re working on a case. Remember that when you’re looking over your prospects.” He couldn’t help the bitter note that crept into his voice. The words his ex-wife hurled at him before she walked out were forever engraved in his memory. All your fault. Never around. No good at love, no good at marriage.

  “I will,” Suzy said, but the look in her eyes was soft and sympathetic. Why, he had no idea.

  “I’m not looking for sympathy,” he said brusquely. “All I nwant is to win this election.”

  “I know that,” she assured him just as brusquely. “All I want is to help you win so I can get on with my life.”

  “Good,” he said unwilling to talk further about marriage or kids or anything else he didn’t have. He sat down behind his desk, leaning as far back in his swivel chair as he could without tipping over, hoping his headache. and sore throat would go away.

  “You didn’t mention that besides the wife and kids Darryl has money,” she said.

  “Maybe I didn’t mention it, but I haven’t forgotten it,” he mumbled, pressing his thumbs against his temples.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing but a sandpaper throat and a bongo drum beating a rhythm in my head. Nothing that a good night’s sleep wouldn’t cure. If I ever get one. Did I tell you I had to break up a fight in the saloon last night at one o’clock?”

  “No, you didn’t,” Suzy said. She felt a pang of guilt for scheduling too many events in one day, not to mention having him baby-sit for her on the weekend. She glanced out the window at the small structure with bars on the windows that had served the town as a jail ever since she could remember. “Anyone arrested?”

  He shook his head. “Thank God it ended peacefully. With both parties mad at me instead of each other.”

  “You should have told me,” she said, with a look of concern at the worry lines carved in his forehead. “What you need is a good massage.” He didn’t answer, so she stepped behind his desk chair and ran her hands tenta
tively through his hair. It was thick and springy and tickled her palms, causing a frisson of awareness to skitter up her spine.

  She had a terrible, overwhelming desire to bury her face in his hair. To inhale the heady masculine scent that was pure Brady. Her heart fluttered, and an alarm bell went off in a far corner of her brain. She didn’t listen. She didn’t want to hear it. She leaned forward and kneaded the muscles in his neck and broad shoulders, letting his hair brush her cheek.

  He moaned deep in his throat, and the sound sent a bolt of desire ricocheting through her body. “Feel good?” she murmured. As if she didn’t know.

  He let his head fall back against her ribs, just below her breasts, and she felt a wave of heat course through her body. She told herself Brady was her boss. She told herself he had a headache and she was only trying to make it better. It was as simple as that. But it wasn’t simple. It was complicated. She took a deep breath and applied pressure from her thumbs against his temples. And realized she had to stop. Right now.

  “Why don’t I make you some tea with honey in it, for your throat?” she suggested, tiptoeing carefully around the desk. He nodded and let his eyes close.

  Grateful that he had no idea of the effect he had on her, Suzy sighed softly and went to the storeroom to heat the tea in the microwave there. When she came back with the cup in her hand, Brady sat up straight and ran his hand through his hair. There were lines around his mouth, signs of fatigue she hadn’t seen before. Her heart twisted. He might not want a wife. He might have had a bad experience with marriage, but if ever a man needed someone to take care of him, it was Brady. And after she left, who would do it?

  She set the cup on his desk. “I hope you like Peach Passion,” she said.

  He grinned, his fatigue disappearing as fast as the steam rising from the cup. “I like peach passion and every other kind of passion, don’t you?”

  “Passion is what got me into trouble before,” she said primly. “I’ve sworn off passion.”

  He took a large gulp of tea, but his eyes didn’t leave her face. She felt her cheeks redden. She didn’t want to talk about her ill-fated affair with Travis’s father. But she meant what she said. She would never succumb to passion again. Not that she would trade Travis, the result of her passionate affair, for anything. But passion didn’t last, and this time she was looking for something else. Something permanent.

  “Anyway, back to the money,” she said briskly. “The Gentrys want to give a barn dance for you at their ranch. Twenty-five-dollar donation a couple for your campaign. How does that sound?”

  “Great. I won’t have to dance, will I?”

  “Of course not. You’ll be busy shaking hands. Why, what’s wrong with dancing?”

  “Just one of those many things I don’t do.”

  “They’ll have a caller, to call the dances and teach everybody. It’s fun.”

  “Suzy,” he said. “I’m not looking for fun, I’m looking...”

  “To win the election. I know.” She turned to go back to her office, to the pile of flyers on her desk.

  She’d barely gotten inside the door when he called her back. “Yes?” she said, her hand on the doorknob.

  “Thanks for the tea.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And the massage.”

  “Do you feel better?”

  His eyes darkened until they were almost black and completely unfathomable. He didn’t say anything for so long she thought he’d forgotten the question. “Depends,” he said at last, “on what you mean by better.”

  Suzy went back to her office and stared out the window at the town hall, wondering what was wrong with Brady besides a headache and a sore throat. As she told Tally, he was acting weird. Making her feel weird. And making it difficult for her to do whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. At five o’clock, tired of thinking of the unthinkable, she got up, slung her bag over her shoulder and said good-night to Brady. He raised his hand, gave her a brief smile and went back to work as if nothing had happened. Which it hadn’t. Not to him, anyway.

  The next day Suzy’s mother was sick and couldn’t take care of Travis. Suzy told Brady she’d work at home. She usually looked forward to going to work. As much as she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, she enjoyed the verbal jousting with Brady, dealing with the citizens of Harmony and helping Brady solve the problems that came across his desk. But not today. Today she was glad of an excuse to stay home.

  She told herself she needed a break from the stress at work. But that wasn’t it. She needed a break from Brady. From certain disturbing feelings he caused. But she realized about halfway through the morning, as she did a load of laundry, changed Travis’s diapers and picked up his toys, that there was something to be said for the working life after all.

  She frowned at her reflected image in the toaster oven. No makeup, her hair a tangle of frizz, a blot of strained peaches on the front of her shirt. Instead of her usual work clothes and careful grooming, she was a mess. Was this how she would look every day after she’d finally achieved her goal?

  At noon Brady came by with a stack of papers. He looked only slightly surprised at her appearance as his eyes traveled from her unruly hair down to her baggy jeans and bare feet. When his intense gaze lingered on the peach stain on her sweatshirt, her pulse sped up and she felt a strange warmth suffuse her body, despite the cool breeze coming through the open door. Her body was reacting as if he’d touched her. Her heart fluttered. Her mouth was dry.

  What was wrong with her, a mature woman with a baby, reacting to a man’s gaze like that? Many men had looked at her, had even desired her. She knew that. She usually brushed them off like flies. But not Brady.

  It was not as if he had touched her. Because if he had... Oh, Lord, just the thought caused the heat to intensify and made her hands shake. Why hadn’t she changed clothes when she heard the doorbell ring? Then there’d be no peach stain to stare at. But how could she know it would be him?

  “I...I wasn’t expecting you,” she stammered

  “Where’s the kid?” he asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

  “In the kitchen. We’re having lunch. Why?”

  “Because your friend Bridget called this morning about the barn dance. She wants us to go out and have a look at the facilities, talk about the thing. I thought we could all go this afternoon.”

  “Travis, too? Okay. I’ll have to change.”

  “Why? You look cute.”

  She choked back a laugh. “You’ve never paid me a compliment since I started working for you. And today you think I look cute?”

  “Oh, come on. I complimented you just the other day after you rewrote that speech of mine.”

  “I don’t mean that. I mean...”

  “I know what you mean,” he said wryly. “Personal stuff. My ex-wife said the same thing.”

  If there was anything Suzy didn’t want, it was to be compared to his ex-wife.

  “Anyway, I’m going to change,” she assured him. “As soon as Travis finishes his soup.”

  “Soup?” He sniffed the air. “What kind of soup?”

  “Chicken noodle.”

  “My favorite.”

  “It came out of a can.”

  “Where else?”

  She smiled. “Would you like to join us?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  When they got to the kitchen Travis was wearing his soup bowl on his head and there were noodles all over the floor. When he saw Brady he let out a squeal of delight and banged his fist on his tray.

  Ignoring the inverted soup bowl and the puddles on the floor, Suzy watched as her boss and her son exchanged high-fives. There’d obviously been some kind of male bonding the night she was gone. She turned to the stove and scooped a generous portion of noodles and broth into a bowl and set it on the table in front of Brady, who’d taken the chair next to Travis.

  “It looks like he remembers you,” she noted dryly.

  “H
e’d better remember me,” Brady said taking the bowl off Travis’s head and mopping his cherubic face with a napkin. “After all that quality time we spent together, right kid?” He looked up at Suzy. “Go change if you’re going to.”

  “You’re sure you’ll be all right with him?” she asked warily.

  “Sure.”

  When she returned in clean, well-fitting jeans and a fresh shirt, her hair combed and a light dusting of an almost-invisible foundation and some pale lipstick, the kitchen floor was clean, and Travis was standing on Brady’s knees jumping up and down.

  “Hey,” Brady said, with an appreciative glance in her direction. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you look even better. Smell good, too,” he said with a sexy grin.

  “Two compliments in one day,” she said lightly. “I should invite you over for soup more often.”

  “Yes, you should,” he said. “Then I wouldn’t have to eat in the diner every day.”

  “Can’t you open a can of soup and heat it up at your house?” she asked, lifting Travis off Brady’s lap to clean his hair and wipe his baby face with a damp cloth.

  “I can. But I like company with my soup.”

  She had a vision of Brady alone in his refinished barn, eating a lonely dinner by himself, and realized that she also ate too many lonely meals, that a one-year-old wasn’t the most stimulating dinner companion. Another reason to have a man in her life. Not only to be a father to Travis, but to be a husband to her. A companion, someone to share the meals as well as her life. She must let nothing distract her from that goal. All the more reason to get going out to the Gentrys’, get started raising money for Brady’s campaign, get Brady elected and then find that certain someone.

  Suzy transferred Travis’s car seat into Brady’s car, tossed his kid pack into the back seat and they were off to the Gentrys’ wild mustang ranch.

  “I have you to thank for this chance to raise money. You and your connections in town. What will I ever do without you?” Brady asked as they headed down the highway toward the wide-open spaces, here neatly fenced ranches lined either side of the road.