Man with a Past (11 page)

You're losing it, Brody.

But it wasn't his imagination. The cries continued and Joe finally realized it was Max. Still shaking from the nightmare, he slung the sheet off his lower body and stood. He walked to the bathroom, dragged in several deep, eye-opening breaths and fought his frustration.

Max continued to cry. Was he all right? Where was Ashley?

Joe splashed cold water on his face. Still Max cried.

He left his room and walked across the large, open foyer to the second floor hallway above the kitchen.

The door to Max's room was ajar.

“I know. I'm sorry, honey. I'm just so tired I didn't wake up. Mommy didn't mean to sleep through your bellowing.”

Joe smiled at the description. Bellowing was right on the money in Max's case.

Ashley got him settled on her lap in the rocking
chair, the bottle in his mouth ending his fussy whimpers. The sight hurt because it was so beautiful, so caring and loving.

“Better now? Don't give me that look, I said I was sorry.” She smiled tiredly. “Ah, so you want a story now, too? So demanding,” she said, humor lacing her voice. “Where were we, huh?” She leaned her head back against the rocking chair's wooden frame and sighed. “Okay…”

Joe knew he should leave, walk away, but now that he was up and the temptation of learning more about Ashley had presented itself, he wanted to stay.

Wilson's words repeated themselves in his head.

Was Ashley his second chance? His way of proving, somehow, that he hadn't hurt Josie?

Torn, he leaned a fist high against the wall outside the room. Head down, his thoughts were all over the place until he heard Ashley speak. Then he could do nothing but stay and listen.

“Your daddy was a goof,” Ashley murmured. “But I loved him, Max. That man could make me smile when I was in the worst of moods. And I
hated
it,” she added with a wry laugh. “Because I couldn't ever be mad at him for long. He wouldn't let me. Instead he'd do something stupid to make me laugh and keep right on until he'd teased me out of my anger.

“Since he was older, he left the home first and joined the Marines. I didn't see him again. I dated
a lot of losers in that time. Then I graduated and had to move out, got a couple jobs and my own place. And one day,” she said softly, “there he was. He looked so handsome in his uniform. He'd gone to the home and asked around, tracked me down. He sat at one of my tables and then stayed until my shift was over. We talked for hours just in little snatches between me running around waiting on people. From then on, every time he saved up enough money and had leave, he'd come to see me.”

The chair creaked as she rocked, the rhythm soothing. Combined with the noises Max made while he sucked on his bottle, Joe felt…at home.

“At first we were still just friends, trying to figure out life. Then one night I'd had a really bad day and I wished with all my heart he was there. And then he was. It was like magic. Max, I couldn't believe it when I saw him. I actually thought I'd made him up. That weekend we realized we loved each other and we got married.

“We wanted to give our babies everything we didn't have, you know? We wanted you to live in a place where you don't have to worry about anything. A home that's warm and safe and one you can be proud of. We were going to have a family, one with a mommy
and
daddy, and brothers and sisters to fight with,” she said thickly. “That was our dream.” She sniffled, the chair creaking a time or two before she continued. “I
want us to belong here, Max. In this big, beautiful house and this safe little town. And I'll do whatever it takes to make it happen. Even if it means doing things I don't like doing. For you, I will. I promise.”

Ashley's story picked up again, but Joe couldn't stay any longer. It wasn't right. And it wasn't what he wanted to hear from her, either. She'd been happy until her husband died, had loved him. And she'd be happy and fall in love again when the right guy came along.

But he wasn't the guy. He wanted to be, ached to be, but he wasn't. She had a dream and she couldn't achieve it with him by her side. She wanted a good life for Max and that wouldn't happen with him in her life messing things up. Even if she believed him at all.

Joe retraced his steps back to his room and laid down on the bed. He stared at the ceiling for hours, searching for an answer, but one never found one. The sun broke over the horizon. Tired and aching from too much work and not a lot of rest, he got up and showered.

Another day, another project. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could leave Ashley and her dream behind for another man to have.

 

S
HOWERS SETTLED IN
over the next few days and became a consistent soft rain. Joe began the ceiling
work upstairs. He ripped out and repaired the Sheetrock that had been damaged from the leaky roof, and although she'd offered her help, his gruff refusals led Ashley to distance herself with other projects she could handle on her own.

Neither of them mentioned the kiss. She supposed that was a good thing under the circumstances, but she couldn't help wondering what he'd thought—or what he'd done about the arousal he'd walked away with. Had he gone to someone else? Found a pretty girl in town and taken care of things?

Jealousy bit her hard.

It also startled.

No way.
Could she actually be jealous? She'd known him a matter of weeks. Weeks, when it had taken her years of knowing Mac before she'd ever felt a smidgen more than friendship.

But she couldn't lie to herself. Or avoid the truth of Joe's past. Would he stay out of jail?

You don't know him or know he's really turned his life around.

Joe staying here was temporary and she had to remember it, kiss or no kiss.

“Ashley?”

She whirled around and found the object of her thoughts standing in the doorway of the library, his expression confused.

“What, did you need something?”

He shook his head, but still frowned. “You changed your mind?”

About him? Definitely…not. “About what?”

Joe stepped deeper into the room and indicated the trim brush in her hand. “I thought you were going to leave the bookshelves as they are.”

Her eyes widened and she whirled back around only to find she'd done the unthinkable. Lost in thought, she'd finished trimming up the wall and moved on to paint over the side of the hand-carved,
stained
mahogany bookshelves.

“
No!
Oh,
no!
” She dropped the brush into the paint pan and grabbed the towel she kept tucked into the waistband of her shorts for drips. Instead of wiping the paint away, all she did was smear it around.

Ashley turned to Joe for help but found him gone. She'd nearly burst into tears at her mindless blunder when he returned with a plastic container of water and a sponge.

“Watch out.”

She scrambled out of the way and Joe quickly went to work. His long, lean hands squeezed the sponge and scrubbed the wood, over and over again until the barest hint of color remained.

“Do you have a fresh towel?”

She handed him one from a nearby stack and he wiped the lower side of the bookcase down. No more paint remained that she could see.

“There. You must have really been lost in thought.”

Ashley smoothed her trembling hands over her head, wet her lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I was.”

Joe's gaze narrowed. He stood, the action placing him so close that she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Did you go into town yesterday?” she blurted suddenly, the jealous witch on her shoulder determined to have her way. “To—to see your dad?”

The movement was so slight she might have imagined it, but Ashley thought she saw his lashes lower a bit, the move not as casual as it looked, but…protective?

“Yeah. Why?”

“Did you not mean to kiss me?”

“You kissed me back.”

She'd hoped he'd forgotten that part.

Joe closed his eyes briefly before opening them and giving her a look she couldn't comprehend.

“Look, Ashley, I understand why you don't want me kissing you—”

“Why's that?”

He faltered. “You're my boss.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Did he move closer?

“And I'm an ex-con.”

The air left her lungs. “It bothers me,” she admitted softly. “But only because I knew guys at the home who'd get in trouble once and then they'd
do it again and again, and even though they had a chance at a better life, they'd go back and screw up every time.”

“That part of my life is over. I promise you that.”

He said it with such conviction and strength, she couldn't help but believe him. It was exactly what she wanted him to say, too. But did believing him make her a fool when she had Max to think of, to protect?

“You think I'm lying.”

“No,” she said quickly. One look into his eyes told her he wasn't. “I believe you, it's just—”

“You want to be sure because of Max.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I
have
to be sure because of Max,” she said, inexcusably relieved that he understood.

Maybe she compared him to the juvenile delinquents she'd known growing up, but Joe wasn't like them. Not even on the most elemental levels. He'd been honest with her, and had come clean about his prison stay, worked harder than any man she'd ever known, not to achieve his dream, but to help her achieve hers.

You pay him to work for you.

But he was different, and she did him an injustice by not giving him the chance at a new life, like the one she wanted for herself.

And the attraction between them?

It was just that. Attraction, nothing else, the physical needs of their bodies calling out to one another.

Joe stepped close, so close his chest brushed hers and electricity zapped through her body.

Nothing else, huh?

He watched her, waited, gave her as much time as she needed to sort through the chaos in her mind. The next move was up to her, that much was obvious.

The scent of soap and man filled her head and added to her confusion. White powder from the gypsum board streaked across his chest, and she found her fingers following the path. Felt the warm, thick muscle beneath the material of his shirt. The beat of his heart. Joe was a flesh-and-blood man. Not perfect, but he didn't pretend to be, either. He was just…Joe.

The phone rang and she startled, then laughed. “Sorry. I'd—I'd better get that.”

Joe placed a hand over hers and held it to him, his expression grim. “Ashley…there's something else you need to know.”

The baby monitor crackled loudly as Wilson answered the phone, then, “Missy! It's Doc Booker. I think he wants another date!”

Joe stiffened, his expression closed. He stepped back. “I'd better get back to work.”

“But—What were you going to say? What else do I need to know?”

He hesitated. “Nothing…enjoy your date with the doc.” Joe scowled, walking away. “Folks consider him a good catch.”

J
OE TOOK A LATE LUNCH
to avoid Ashley. She'd left him a note on the table telling him to help himself to the pot roast she had warming in a Crock-pot. He ate, then ten minutes later, borrowed the keys to Wilson's beat-up old truck and headed for Ridgewood.

Inside the air-conditioned home he found Mrs. H. waiting. “Hello, Mr. Brody.”

Joe laughed wryly. “You can call me Joe, Mrs. H.”

She tsked at him and stood. “Perhaps I will when we're back on good terms.”

He fell into step beside her. “So what'll it take?”

Mrs. H. paused, lifting her chin high as she regarded him. “For you to read to our guests,” she suggested smoothly. “
Someone
frightened off our last reader.”

Meaning him…and Melissa?

Joe looked over Mrs. H.'s head to find about twenty people scattered throughout the cafeteria. Some talking, some playing board games. Some just staring off into space.

“That's probably not a good—”

“Your father said earlier he'd join us today. He doesn't do that very often, but think of how proud he'd be to see you making an effort to make amends.”

“Low blow, Mrs. H.”

“Whatever it takes, Mr. Brody.”

He stared her down, knowing without a doubt she had him. He rubbed the back of his neck, felt the grit of gypsum and frowned. “I didn't clean up because I have to go back to work. I didn't expect—”

She smiled. “You look fine. They'll be listening to your voice, Mr. Brody. And if memory serves, you have a fine voice for pubic speaking.”

 

A
SHLEY HAD FINISHED
painting the library and carried Max upstairs when she heard Joe drive up to the house. She peeked out her bedroom window to watch his lazy stride, but when he left her vision she dropped the lacy sheer back into place and returned to surveying the clothes on her bed with a frown.

She'd agreed to a date—a full-fledged, kiss-him-good-night date—with Bryan Booker.

And even though she'd asked herself a million times
why
she'd agreed, she knew. She was ready. Removing her wedding band was only a part of what she'd been feeling for a while, a symbol. And now? She was ready to move on and ready to feel alive again. Ready to gain some perspective on Joe.

She hoped going out with Bryan—someone so
completely opposite Joe in every way—would allow her to do it.

Maybe this would help her decide if her interest in Joe involved his rough good looks and close proximity, or…something more. Either way, she had to find out, and a date with Dr. Booker—
Bryan
—would give her that much needed reality check.

Bryan was nice, handsome, well-educated and as far as she knew, had never broken the law or been imprisoned. She owed it to Max and herself to think with her head. That's why she'd agreed.

But unlike most women who had a closet full of dresses, she only owned one. Short and black—just the way Mac had liked them. A dress she'd bought to wear for their second wedding anniversary, but then never got the chance because his leave had been canceled.

Ashley pulled the dress from the closet and carefully unwound the knot of plastic at the hem. Soft, filmy, the dress was elegant and provocative at the same time. Wearing it for her husband was one thing, but would the dress give Bryan the wrong idea?

“What do you think, Max?” She held the dress up in front of her for Max's drooling perusal. “I thought so. But it's the only dress I have so…it's got to be the one.”

Max made a happy, gurgling sound and let go
of the blankets he held on to at the side of her bed. Unable to balance, he fell on his diaper-padded rump and looked to her as though trying to decide whether or not to cry.

Ashley tossed the dress aside and clapped her hands. “Yay, good one! Yay!”

Tears forgotten, Max grinned at her and brought his hands up to clap.

“Good job, Max.” She bent and picked him up. “Come on, little man. Let's go see what you've got to wear.”

An hour later Max was dressed and playing in his upstairs crib. A bath had relaxed him and maybe with some luck he'd take a nap before Bryan arrived.

She pulled her hair away from her face and secured it in a twist at the back of her head, then pulled a few straight tendrils along the side of her cheeks in the hopes they would soften all the harsh angles that made up her face. Forgoing hose, she slipped into her only pair of strappy heels and frowned at her image. Dressing up for a date with Bryan felt strange yet it was funny how kissing Joe seemed right in comparison.

She looked down at her ringless finger and bit her lip. She went to the dresser in Max's room and opened the wooden box that held her wedding band.

Oh, Mac, am I doing the right thing?

A warm, contented feeling filled her. And
without a doubt, Ashley knew it was Mac's way of telling her everything would be all right. That he wanted her to be happy.

Ashley closed the box and headed toward the bathroom.

A glance at the clock said it was too late to cancel. She had to go. Bryan had mentioned he was staying at his elderly grandfather's home between Taylorsville and Baxter until an apartment above his practice could be completed, which meant to get here by the appointed time, he had to have already left.

Nervous, a little sick, she grabbed her brush.

The last thing she needed to be worrying about was Joe's reaction. They'd shared a couple of really hot kisses and enough heat between them to set the house on fire. But before she could even remotely consider Joe potential father material, she had to test the waters. Use her head and Max's best interests to make up her mind.

Whatever her feelings were for her hunky, ex-con handyman…she'd find out tonight.

 

T
WO AND A HALF
hours later, Ashley sat back against the padded booth with a moan. “No, no more. I can't eat another bite. I don't know how Wilson does this.”

Bryan chuckled as he waved the ice cream and fudge covered spoon in the air between them. “Come on. You know you want it.”

He'd teased her all through dinner, flirting, laughing. She'd allowed herself to flirt back, too. But more than once she'd seen the embarrassed, harassed expression on Bryan's face when the noise level from the all-girl table in the corner reached record proportions.

“Any more and you'll have to roll me out of here,” she added.

“Your loss.” Bryan plopped the spoon into his mouth.

Max continued to sit quietly, content to eat his Cheerios or play with his toys as he watched the waitstaff bustle by him. She was so proud of him. This was the first time he'd been inside a restaurant and while she knew his behavior could change at any moment, he'd been wonderful so far.

“I have to admit I had my doubts and considered canceling, but this date has been a lot of fun.”

“Good. I'm glad you feel that way.” Bryan leaned back against the bench seat. “Although you seem very contemplative for a woman having fun.”

“Oh. Really?” Her laugh emerged high-pitched and telling. “Well, I guess tonight has…clued me into a few things, that's all.”

“What things?”

She shrugged. “Nothing major,” she hedged, uncomfortable. “Just that I need to get out more.”

“With me?” Bryan suggested with a wink.

Heat filled her face, but she didn't acknowledge his question. Bryan was a nice guy. Handsome,
gorgeous
, but he wasn't the guy she'd spent the evening thinking about.

“I'm also beginning to accept the fact Wilson is right,
again,
and that settling in and becoming a part of things in Taylorsville may be easier if I open my mind and allow myself to be stared at a bit so people can get to know me and vice versa.”

“Sounds good.” His smile widened. “What else?”

Once again voices rose behind her and she lifted a brow in question. “Maybe you should tell me. What's the deal with the women in the corner?”

Bryan took a sip of his coffee, his eyes guarded while his face darkened. “You haven't seen the newspaper?”

“Not unless it had paint drips on it.”

Bryan's smile was off-kilter and world-weary. Every one of those women in the corner wanted to be the doctor's wife and had quite happily discussed—in detail—what they'd be willing to do to achieve their goal.

And while some people might not see Bryan's handsome looks and occupation as a problem, thanks to her waitressing days she knew what it was like to get hit on constantly by people who looked at her as if she were an object rather than a person. Big boobs, a decent set of features, and no family had made her an easy target…until she set them straight.

“So you did something newsworthy to earn all the attention?”

He flushed beneath the muted lights overhead. “Not quite newsworthy,” he muttered. “No, the newspaper recently came out with a contest. People had to write in and vote. Somehow I wound up winning a couple of the so-called
awards
and my life has been hell ever since.”

“What kind of awards?”

He leaned forward, his gaze not quite meeting hers. “Most Eligible Bachelor, Sexiest Doctor and…Best Butt.”

Ashley snickered.

He glared at her but the wry amusement in his features belied any true anger. “That's good. Laugh, twist the knife deeper.”

“Bryan, oh my.” She snickered again. “So everywhere you go you get…them?” she asked, rolling her eyes quickly to indicate the group nearby.

He nodded. “Young, old, married or not,” he growled. “I'm shaking women out of my mattress.”

“Poor baby,” she crooned.

Bryan's gaze promised retribution. And friendship. She liked that since it sort of reminded her of something an older brother would do.

Definitely not boyfriend material when you think of him like that.

And that thought confirmed the decision she'd come to during the course of the evening.

“It's a hard life but someone's got to do it,” she teased. “Might as well be you.”

“Thanks. So much for getting sympathy from you. I'd think you'd be a little more understanding.”

The women in the corner burst into laughter, drawing everyone's gaze until it was obvious they were talking about him, and the restaurant's occupants turned to stare at Bryan instead.

“Okay, I've had enough. What about you? Want to take a walk down by the river? Should be a nice breeze and I think there's a band tonight. We can spread a blanket on the ground and listen.”

Ashley pulled her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. “Sounds like fun. But if there's a band I've gotta warn you—Max and I like to dance.”

Head down, he groaned. “Just my luck…in the spotlight again.”

 

A
SHLEY ASSUMED
Joe and Wilson were both asleep when she carried Max into the house. She tucked her son in his crib and turned on the monitor, but was too restless and wound up to go to bed herself. She grabbed the portable receiver from her room in case Max stirred and then slipped off her heels and padded barefoot to the front hallway. At the bottom of the stairs, she unlocked the front door and headed out onto the wraparound porch, her thoughts consumed by Joe and the realization she'd made tonight.

She didn't like him. No, what she felt for Joe was much, much more. But what? Attraction and friendship didn't begin to describe her feelings. She'd acknowledge both emotions, but what should she do about them?

Should she do anything?

“Better watch where you step.”

Ashley whirled at the sound of Joe's voice, her gaze searching the darkness. He sat on the aged wooden planks, one leg stretched out in front of him, one drawn up to act as a prop for his arm. In the muted light of the moon she saw the glint of his eyes but couldn't make out his expression.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

She smiled. “No problem.”

He pointed a lazy finger toward the long driveway. “The doc's got a nice car.”

Ashley put her hands behind her so the chipping paint of the porch rail wouldn't snag her dress. “It was all right.” The nicest ride she'd ever been in, but who cared?

Mac's death had hammered home the fact money wasn't everything.

She wet her dry lips. “Joe—”

“I'd better—”

They both stopped and stared. “You go first,” he said, his tone low, rasping over her skin like a trail of well-placed kisses.

Her thoughts flew to Bryan and the sweet,
brotherly kiss he'd pressed to her cheek at the back door. She didn't want sweet kisses. Not from Joe. And while she knew it was too soon to be thinking herself in love with him, tonight had cemented the fact she felt something for him she'd never felt before.

Something she didn't want to lose.

Joe shoved himself to his feet and turned to leave.

“Don't go.”

His broad shoulders squared, the breath hissed out of his throat. “If I stay I'll…”

“What?” She stepped away from the railing, toward him, and thought she saw him tense even more. “You'll what?” she pressed, laying a hand on his back. “Kiss me again?”

A long silence filled the air, broken only by the distant sound of traffic on the highway that led into town, the croak of bullfrogs in the pond just over the hill.

“What if I want you to?” she whispered. “What if I want you to kiss me?”

Joe turned just enough to glare at her over the shoulder she touched. In her bare feet she nearly met him eye to eye—nearly, but not quite. And although Mac had been taller, Joe was broader, more strongly built. Honed and hardened.

By prison.

“You deserve nice things like that car your date drove. Things I can't give you.” He swore softly.
“Ashley, I can't give you
any
thing right now because I have nothing to give.”