Man Shy Page 13

  “I’ve been thinking about your problem.” Brody’s voice was a raspy whisper that tickled her mouth and worried her ragged nerves.

  She closed her eyes, unable to bear the loving tenderness of his steady gaze. “I have, too, and I’m sorry, Brody. It’s not going to work between us.”

  He kissed her again, gently, with a sweetness that lulled her senses and warmed her heart. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but—” He stifled her protest with a kiss so potent that her senses spun in a dizzy vortex. She was Alice, plunging down the rabbit hole. Dorothy, caught in the cyclone. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think.

  Panicking, she pulled away. “I can’t do this. It’s not that I don’t want to. I just can’t.”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Mallory.” Brody wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, so close she could hear the pounding of his heart.

  The problem was she didn’t know what she wanted to do. Her mind screamed caution, but her body throbbed everywhere it made contact with his. Mallory moaned in sheer frustration. She wanted him but knew she couldn’t have him. Prolonging the agony wasn’t fair to either one of them. She pulled away, clutching at her towel.

  Brody’s smiled a crooked little half smile. “I was afraid of that,” he said.

  She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

  He gripped her shoulders and spoke in a low, urgent voice. “That pig forced himself on you when you were a child. You were his victim then, and there was nothing you could do about it. But there’s a hell of a difference between being raped and making love with someone who cares for you. You’re grown up now, Mallory. You control your destiny. You decide what you want to do. It’s okay to say no as long as it’s what you really want. But I’m not convinced it is. Think about it, honey. Are you going to avoid sex permanently? He made you a victim once. Don’t let him make you a victim for the rest of your life.”

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  Brody watched her face for a moment, then slowly released her. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  “Tomorrow,” she echoed. She should have been relieved that he’d given in so easily, but all she felt was confusion.

  TEN

  “Lovely reception. Your father must have dropped a bundle.” Great-aunt Bethiah, resplendent in pearls and a peach satin turban trimmed with dyed-to-match chicken feathers, had descended on Mallory the second Brody went off in search of the men’s room. “By the way, who’s your new young man, dear?”

  “His name is Brody Hunter. He’s a cop,” she added, figuring that was the next question on Great-aunt Bethiah’s list.

  “Really, dear? What a waste of raw material. Tell him he should move to Hollywood. He could make his fortune there. He’s every bit as good-looking as the men on my soaps and better built than any of them.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be sure to pass along your advice.”

  When a stout female in flowered silk, support hose, and jogging shoes approached, momentarily distracting her great-aunt, Mallory slipped away. Snippets of conversations reached her ears as she wove through the tightly packed bodies.

  “c heard the wedding was almost canceled, but they seem to have patched up their differences c”

  “c damn burglars took everything but the kitchen sink c”

  “c lovely wedding, beautiful bride c”

  She paused near the buffet table and stood on tiptoes, scanning the crowd for Brody. He was nowhere to be seen, though she did catch a glimpse of Kyle’s lanky form propped against a pillar near the dance floor.

  Spotting her, he gave a wave. “Come on over,” he mouthed. Despite the seething river of people that separated them, joining Kyle sounded like a wiser course of action than waiting around for Great-aunt Bethiah to pounce again.

  Like a salmon struggling upstream against the current, Mallory plunged into the throng, fighting her way through the mass of humanity. Her progress was slow. She had to stop every step or two to greet people she knew. Most remarked on how well she was looking, sounding surprised. At least half a dozen were more direct, bluntly stating how shocked they’d been to hear her sister had stolen her boyfriend.

  She coped by gluing a phony smile on her face and saying over and over what a great couple Lindsey and Evan made and hadn’t it been a beautiful ceremony?

  Kyle’s welcoming smile was a beacon. Determinedly, she waded toward him through the swirling currents of social purgatory. “Thanks,” she said as he pulled her into a calm eddy near the pillar.

  “You remember Tim?” Kyle nodded toward his companion.

  “Sure, but I thought c” She’d thought he’d made up with Dolph.

  “Dolph canceled at the last minute,” Kyle explained. “A sudden emergency.”

  Tim smirked. “Yeah, like maybe a bad hair day.”

  Kyle ignored the other man’s comment. “And Tim was free.”

  Mallory shook Tim’s hand. His skin was slick and smooth, almost as if he were wearing latex gloves. She withdrew her fingers as quickly as possible, doing her best to suppress a shudder.

  The bartender looked pretty pleased with himself. “My day off. Perfect timing, no?”

  “Perfect.” Had Tim somehow engineered Dolph’s cancellation? Mallory wondered. She didn’t trust him an inch.

  “So this is where you disappeared to.” Brody slid an arm around her waist, and her heart nearly beat its way past her rib cage.

  She hid her shaking hands in the silken folds of her dress. “My move was in the nature of a strategic retreat. My great-aunt Bethiah launched a frontal assault.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “She sounds formidable. Guess I haven’t met her yet.”

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “If you had, you’d remember. Eightyish. Six feet tall, wearing a turban and enough pearls to decorate a Christmas tree.”

  “Faux pearls,” Tim corrected him. “And cheesy ones at that. I’m something of an expert.”

  Not to mention something of a jerk, Mallory thought.

  “Good to see you made it, Brody,” Kyle said, offering his hand. “You must be run ragged with all these burglaries we’ve had lately.”

  “Not to mention GI Joe. Any leads?” Tim asked.

  Brody looked grim. “Damn few.”

  Tim lowered his voice to a confidential level. “I heard another woman was assaulted last week.”

  Mallory suppressed a shudder, and Brody pulled her closer in a protective gesture. “Right in her own home, just like the other victims.”

  “As much publicity as there’s been, you’d think people would keep their doors and windows locked.” Tim was obviously angling for an insider’s view, but Mallory didn’t want to hear the gory details. She tried her best not to think about GI Joe if she could help it.

  “Not to change the subject, but I read in the paper that you have a lead on the burglaries,” Kyle said.

  “Yes, we finally discovered the common link, thanks to Mallory. All the home owners were regular Dairy-Best customers who put a hold on their deliveries while they went out of town.”

  “So the burglar is the ice-cream man?” Tim’s bright brown eyes and twitching nose reminded her of an inquisitive hamster.

  Brody’s expression was noncommittal. “There appears to be a connection with Dairy-Best. Unfortunately, their office is closed on weekends and the manager is out of town, so we won’t be able to check employee records until Monday.”

  Kyle frowned. “Seems like it would have been smarter not to release the information to the paper. Won’t this tip off the burglars? I mean, if it were me and I read in the paper that the police were about to crack the case wide open, I’d get the hell out of Dodge.”

  “Someone leaked the information.” Brody’s arm tightened around her.

  “Hey, not me,” Mallory said.

  He looked at her, his expression serious. “I thought maybe you’d said something to a friend
.”

  She frowned. “No way. The leak must be in the department.”

  “You know,” Tim said, “I have my own theory about our recent crime wave. I bet one of those right-wing militia groups is responsible. The robberies support the organization and the rapes are the troops’ way of letting off steam.”

  Kyle raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that we had any militia groups in the area.”

  “We don’t,” Brody said.

  Kyle frowned. “Besides, robbery and rape are two entirely different crimes. I don’t see the connection.”

  “Interesting theory, though,” Brody said politely, then turned to Mallory. “Want to dance?”

  “Love to,” she meant to say, but never got past the first syllable. The heated look in Brody’s eyes literally took her breath away. She stiffened instinctively, but he swept her onto the dance floor before her flight reflex could kick in.

  “It’s okay.” His voice, soft and soothing, reassured her. She closed her eyes against a rush of emotion and gradually, one by one, her muscles relaxed.

  The band was playing “Dust in the Wind,” a song so sad, it normally brought an ache to her chest. This time she was too busy dealing with the unfamiliar sensations flooding her body to pay attention to the bittersweet lyrics. Though her muscles were relaxed, her nerves were on fire.

  Her body burned everywhere it made contact with Brody’s, her lower back where his hands rested, her front from shoulder to knees where he held her pressed against him, her cheek pillowed against his chest.

  “Haven’t danced in a while. Hope your feet survive.”

  So far her feet had no complaints, though other portions of her anatomy throbbed almost painfully in time with the music. She nestled closer, and Brody’s scent filled her nostrils, soap and clean, warm male body creating a surprisingly seductive mixture.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, the throb intensified to hot licking flames that burned her from the inside out. Mallory wanted to feel Brody’s mouth on hers, to taste his lips.

  Are you nuts? the rational part of her brain demanded. Don’t you remember where feelings like that lead?

  Bits and pieces of long-suppressed memories flooded her mind: the sound of her own gasping sobs, Cameron’s weight crushing her into the dirt, the odors of sweat and Coppertone, dust and Cameron clogging her nose. She stiffened in remembered pain, clamping down hard on her emotions.

  Dammit. What had tripped Mallory’s alarm this time? She’d been soft and fluid in his arms only seconds ago. Now she was tense again, her muscles taut and quivering. Had the talk of GI Joe brought back the old nightmare?

  “May I cut in?” Evan stood at his shoulder.

  Brody frowned, silently cursing the other man’s lousy timing. “It’s up to Mallory.”

  Giving a slight shrug, she moved into Evan’s arms.

  Brody caught her shoulder and she glanced up at him, her eyes wide and startled. “I’ll be waiting,” he said with a smile.

  Her answering smile trembled a little at the edges. “Later,” she said.

  Brody joined Kyle and Tim on the sidelines. “How long has she known the truth?” Kyle asked.

  “Practically from the beginning.”

  Tim cocked his head to one side. “The truth about what?”

  “That I’m not really gay,” Brody said.

  Tim’s eyes opened wide. “Why on earth would she have thought that?”

  No one answered his question. Brody watched Mallory swirling around the dance floor in Corby’s arms. Was it really necessary for him to hold her quite that close?

  Kyle shot Brody an assessing look. “And she didn’t call off the date? Maybe I misjudged her.”

  “I hope so.” Brody grinned.

  But Kyle’s expression was dead serious. “Watch your step, Hunter. Don’t hurt her,” he said softly, before dragging Tim off to the buffet line.

  Brody stared after them in surprise. Kyle Brewster, mild-mannered Kyle Brewster, had just threatened him. Oh, he hadn’t come right out and said, “Hurt her and you’re dog meat!” but Brody knew what he meant. And he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel insulted.

  Shaking his head in dismay, he propped himself against the wall, where he had an unrestricted view of Mallory and the groom. After watching them for a few minutes, he came to a couple of surprising conclusions. First, Corby might look like Mr. Suave and Sophisticated, but he couldn’t dance for beans. And second, the man was an idiot. He must be. How else could you explain his dumping Mallory?

  “She’s really okay with this, isn’t she?”

  “What?” He turned to find the bride standing at his elbow.

  “Mallory.” Lindsey seemed surprised. “She’s not the least bit upset about my marrying Evan, is she?”

  As they watched, Mallory stifled a yawn.

  Brody caught her eye, winking encouragingly. An impish grin lit her face, and she winked back.

  Lindsey smiled and waved. “She told me his defection had only bruised her ego, not her heart, but I didn’t believe her then. Only seeing them together now, I do.”

  Lindsey’s assessment was accurate. If ever Mallory had carried a torch for Corby, the embers were stone cold now. Her face was frozen in a mask of boredom.

  That Corby wasn’t in love with Mallory was equally obvious. He’d been talking nonstop during the whole dance. Once, Mallory had started to say something, but he’d cut her off after a few words and she hadn’t made a second attempt. Engrossed in his monologue, the bozo hadn’t even noticed.

  “She’s in love with you, isn’t she?”

  “What?” Brody stared at Lindsey in surprise.

  “I thought the whole thing was a big put-on at first, you know, just to save face, but she’s really hooked. I can tell by the way she looks at you.” She studied him solemnly. “How about you? Are you in love with her?”

  How the hell was he supposed to respond to something like that? He discarded his first impulse: None of your damn business! A little too blunt. “What gives you that idea?” he said instead.

  “You never take your eyes off her.”

  “Mallory’s not exactly hard to look at.” He’d thought she was beautiful that first night in the Blue Russian, and since seeing her in a towel, he’d been having some spectacular recurrent fantasies, mostly concerned with removing the towel in the most creative possible ways. Probably not the sort of detail to share with her sister, though.

  “You think she’s pretty?”

  Brody turned to Lindsey with a smile. “No, I think she’s gorgeous. Which is hardly surprising since good looks obviously run in your family.”

  She batted her eyelashes like a Southern belle. “Why, thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome, though actually, I was thinking of Great-aunt Bethiah.”

  He’d half expected her to pout, but she chuckled instead, and he caught a glimpse of Mallory in her expression.

  “Champagne?” Brody snagged a couple of glasses from a passing waiter. “Here.” He pressed one of the plastic flutes into her hands and clinked his glass with hers. “To happily ever after.”

  “Happily ever after it is.”

  She eyed him closely over the rim of her wineglass. “Actually, I had an ulterior motive in approaching you. There’s something I think you ought to know, but I don’t know exactly how to put it.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Mallory,” she started, then stopped. “This is a lot more embarrassing than I expected it to be.”

  “Why?”

  She flushed. “Because you’re not the jerk I thought you were.” She gulped down more of her champagne, then said in a rush, “Last night I was furious with Mallory for causing that scene. Then I realized she’d only been trying to protect me. So now I guess it’s my turn.”

  “To make a scene?”

  Lindsey uttered a trill of nervous laughter. “I sincerely hope not.” She traded her empty glass for a full one and took a quick sip. “I love my sister, and I don’t want to see h
er hurt. She has no defenses against a man like you.”

  “A man like me?” Brody told himself the knot in his gut was heartburn.

  “Single, with every intention of staying that way.” Lindsey took another quick sip. “Mallory’s not some disposable bimbo, you know. You can’t just toss her aside like a piece of trash when you’re done with her.” She uttered the words with a passionate intensity. Tears trembled on her eyelashes.

  Brody spoke softly. “What makes you think I’d do that?”

  Lindsey took another sip of champagne before answering. “That’s just it. I don’t know what you’re capable of. I don’t really know you, and I don’t think Mallory does, either.”

  Two hours and three glasses of champagne later, Mallory decided she enjoyed dancing with Brody, especially slow dancing. She sighed, snuggling against him. “Is it hot in here?”

  “It’s warming up.” Brody brushed his lips across her forehead and she shivered in reaction. “You ready to go?”

  “Almost.” She grinned up at him. He looked a little fuzzy around the edges. She wasn’t sure if her contacts had slipped awry or if the champagne was getting to her. “I’ll meet you at the door. There’s something I have to do.”

  “Okay. Two minutes. Main entrance. Right under the elk horns.”

  “Two minutes. Elk horns,” she repeated obediently. Then she slipped away to the kitchen, where the extra champagne was chilling in the big commercial cooler. She snagged a bottle, hid it in the folds of her mohair stole, and trotted quickly toward the main door, grinning to herself.

  “Where do you think you’re going with that champagne, young lady?”

  “Daddy!” Mallory almost lost her grip on the bottle.

  “I paid top dollar for that damned carbonated French vinegar.” Mike Scott sounded fierce enough, but his eyes were sparkling with suppressed laughter. “You and that new boyfriend of yours planning to party all night?”