The Other Brooks Boy (Texas Wildfire Series) (7 page)

"
Greg
?
Mr. Hottie with the gorgeous eyes, brother-in-law, Greg?"

Cara nodded.
"Yeah, that would be the one."

"Lawd,
child," she said, dragging a folding chair across the room and settling
herself in it near Cara. "I can see this is gonna take a while. Wish I'd
gotten me a donut."

Cara waved her
off. "Oh, no, Etta. You don't need to be listening to me when you're on
your way out of town. Go on. I'll be fine. Had to blow off some steam, that's
all."

"Are you
kiddin' me? Destin ain't got nothin' on this, girl." She took a long suck
on her straw and settled in, dropping her purse from her shoulder to the floor.
"Come on. Spill it."

So Cara did,
telling every detail from the first kiss he snuck from her, to the way he
smelled as she pressed herself to his back on the bike yesterday, to the fear
she felt when she thought of ruining their relationship. And Etta, intelligent
and wise friend that she was, listened raptly. When Cara had finally spilled
the tale in all its
heartworn
glory, Etta took
another long gulp of soda and pondered for a time.

"You know
... that relationship thing ... it's changed already. For better or worse, what
y'all used to have, baby, is gone." She said it as a matter of fact, not
conjecture. And Cara recognized it as truth, feeling it drop into her gut like
a ten pound dumbbell. " 'Cause you are not
ever
gonna look at him
the same after y'all done been up on each other like that."

Well, yes. There
was that, too.
Cara nodded.

"So what
you gotta do now is decide if you care about one another enough to have a real
relationship, and what it's gonna to do to your family when you lay this big
fat juicy secret out on the Thanksgiving table."

Cara pursed her
lips and nodded again.

"
Whoo
, girl ... I can only imagine what Miss Barbara is
gonna say about this here."

"Actually,
I'm more worried about my kids. This is going to be weird for them. Good Lord,
it's weird for me," Cara said, and laid back down on the floor, her hands
coming to cover her face.

Etta was
thoughtful for a quiet time, then asked the most sentient question of all. One
Cara hadn't had the nerve to ask herself. "Are you in love with him,
Cara?"

Cara was quiet
herself for a time. "I don't know, Etta. I know I care for him." She
shrugged. "He's Greg. He's been a part of my life for so much of my life.
But I've always loved him as Jason's brother. You know ... just the family
thing. And there's so much to love about him. He's been there for me without
fail. And he's good with my kids. So good, in fact, I sometimes feel guilty
relying on him so heavily." 

"I know
he's been a big help to you since Jason died. No doubt."

"No doubt,
at all," Cara said, remembering those first horrible days and weeks after
the funeral. Greg had been an absolute rock. Always there, always ready, always
wise with advice. How she might have made it without him didn't even bear
thinking about.

"But how
did it change so suddenly? How did it shift from that familial love to this
incredibly hot attraction? What changed?" Cara asked, speaking to the
Universe at large, as much as Etta.

Etta waved a
bejeweled hand at her with a rattle of bangles. "Whatever, girl. Y'all
been sparkin' on one another long as I've known you."

Cara sent her a
look of incredulous doubt.  "What are you talking about?"

"Seriously,
Cara. I remember y'all horsin' around at the Fourth of July party at your house
a few years ago. He was poppin' you on the behind with that towel and you were
eggin' him on. It was all teasin' and fun stuff." She took a quick drink of
her soda and cut her eyes at Cara. "Or not."

Cara shook her
head decisively. "Oh, no. There hasn't been anything like this until now.
Oh, we might have talked a good talk, but there was never anything beyond
sexual banter."

Etta gave her
that humming, "Mmm, huh", her lips pursed up in a disbelieving moue.

"Seriously,
Etta. I never cheated on Jason. Ever," Cara said.

"Oh, baby,
I know you didn't cheat on Jason. I'm just sayin' the attraction's always been
there. Y'all didn't do anything with it because y'all were both married."
She crossed her arms over her chest and settled back in the chair with a
satisfied smirk. "Y'all just talked about it. Played with words instead of
deed. It was a safe sex kinda thing, I'm thinkin'."

"Well,
there never was any sex, for sure. It was just talk."

"But now
you ready to step it up, seems like."

"I don't
know, Etta. I'm so afraid," Cara said, hugging her knees to her chest.

Etta studied her
for a long minute. " '
Fraid
of what?"

"Afraid of
messing up this relationship."

"Baby, we
done covered that. You think he ain't over there sweatin' to the oldies 'cause
y'all been mackin' on each other? You can bet he is. And he's not gonna look at
you the same no more either. It's a done deal." She arched one dramatic
brow at Cara. "You need to break you off a piece of that, sister."

Cara had to
laugh at that. Etta had more euphemisms for sex than anyone Cara knew.

"And after
you do the mattress mambo, you got to text me in Florida and tell me how it
was.

Now Cara's eyes
went round. "I don't think so, girlfriend."

"Oh, come
on. I just know he's gonna be good. I think I had a dream about him one
time," Etta said, getting a sultry look in her eye. "Damn, that man
is hot."

"Don't I
know it. What do you
think's
kept me up all
night?"

"I'm sure,
baby. Hope he can keep it up all night, too," she said, and laughed that
beautiful Etta belly laugh, cracking herself up.

Greg knew it was
a chicken shit way to deal with the situation, but after wrestling with this
thing since he'd climbed out of her pool last night and catching hardly any
sleep, he was beyond clear and rightful thinking. He'd send her a text. While
it was cowardly and juvenile, he had to give her an out about the reunion
tomorrow night, but he wasn't up to hearing her voice this morning.

His mind was a
mine field about Cara. He felt like he'd awakened two weeks ago in an alternate
universe, where Cara was the sun, and everything was just a hair off kilter.
She looked the same and acted much the same, but he was attracted to her with a
gravitational pull he couldn't escape. And like the sun, she'd become something
he couldn't seem to do without.

He'd mucked
things up kissing her in the first place, then kissing her again in the pool
last night. He'd actually thought, in his temporarily irrational mind, that
really kissing her, tasting and experiencing her would possibly fix the
malfunction in his brain. That once he'd found out she was a woman like all the
others, he'd be able to dismiss it and get back to thinking of her as his
brother's widow, the mother of his niece and nephew, and all would be right
with his world.

Wrong, Brooks.
Utter fail.

 He hadn't
ever felt like this. Never. He'd never desired a woman like this ... burning
and churning in his gut, his muscles, his cock until he could hardly think of
anything else. And it scared him spitless to think he'd irrevocably changed the
relationship they'd shared in the past year with his stupidity.

He finished
typing the text and hit Send before he could change his mind, and dropped his
phone on his desk. He honestly hoped she'd reply and tell him to forget about
taking her to the reunion. He only hoped she didn't tell him to forget about
her altogether. Because any Cara was better than no Cara. That, he wouldn't be able
to deal with.

He mindlessly
shuffled some papers around on his desk, hardly able to concentrate on
anything. He hadn't been productive in two weeks, truth be told. Hell, he was
going to get so far behind if he didn't get straight. Coffee. He needed industrial
strength coffee. He got up to get coffee, and his phone buzzed on his desktop.
A text.

He read it, but
didn't know how to feel about it. There was a lot left to the imagination with
this media. She still wanted him to take her to the reunion and said she knew
they could be adults about all this, but he couldn't glean much beyond that
from what she'd typed. He sighed, feeling no relief at all from the exchange.
Well, at least, there was no angry insult for what he'd done to them. At least,
there was that.

By Saturday
evening, he'd managed to quell the worst of his symptoms with some strong
self-control and a workout and six mile run in the morning. It had knocked the
edge off anyway. He'd decided to treat the evening like he would have before
the fundraiser. They'd take the bike so they wouldn't have to talk much on the
way, and once they were there, he'd get caught up with old friends and she
would, too. They'd hardly have to interact at all. He could get through it, he
told himself. And after that, he was taking some time off and going somewhere
and getting her out of his system. He didn't know how yet, but he was a damned
resourceful guy when he needed to be. He'd manage somehow. He was confident.

Until she opened
the front door.

She looked like
someone had invaded his dreams and created the perfect woman of his fantasies.
She'd highlighted her auburn hair with chunky streaks of honey and it fell in
soft curls around her shoulders, and her skin made him think she'd been in the
pool all day with her sun-kissed, pink cheeks and golden soft tan. She wore a
lightweight, gauzy, print sundress that buttoned all the way down the front and
had a flirty, flowy skirt that showed off a sexy length of those beautiful
thighs, and she wore cowboy boots with it, which made it even sexier. He stood
there a defeated man. Doomed to a night of total torture.

She looked
stricken at his reaction. "What is it?"

He couldn't have
fooled her for trying, so he didn't. "You just take my breath away,
girl."

She didn't know what
to do with that, he could see, as he watched her chew on her bottom lip, a
nervous habit she'd had all her life. He had to try to salvage the moment.
"You're gonna turn some heads with your forty-year-old self tonight,
Cara."

She smiled
softly, and he could see her breathing was a little too fast, her pulse a
little too pounding against the thin silver chain around her neck, and her
dress unbuttoned a little too far, the swells of her breasts trembling with
each breath. But she said nothing.

"Hope you don't
mind I brought the bike. If you'd rather not, we'll have to take your
car," he said in light of her wearing a dress.

"No, I'm
fine with the bike. It'll be fun."

Fun was not what
he would have called it when she climbed on behind him and scooted up close,
her warm parts snuggled in to his backside, her thighs squeezing in on his. He
hadn't taken this into consideration. 

Gunslinger's
Saloon was an old establishment in Austin, one in which they'd all spent their
time and money in years passed, and it had been aptly chosen for the gathering
spot tonight. It was a real Texas honky tonk with a weathered bar, wizened
barkeep, Gus, who'd been there since before Greg was drinking age, and sawdust
on the dance floor so your boots didn't stick.  It looked to be a good
turnout when Greg and Cara entered the place. Country music blared from the
bandstand and already, couples were taking a turn around the dance floor.

In an instant,
Cara was hailed from a group of women off to one side and engulfed in hugs from
old friends. Greg spied a couple of guys he knew at the bar and made his way in
that direction, hoping to put his plan for distance between himself and her
into action.

He ordered a
drink and visited with a few guys from his class and met a spouse or two. He
hadn't been prepared for the number of times he was offered condolences on the
death of his brother. Why he hadn't prepared himself, he didn't know. He hadn't
seen many of these people in years, and nearly none since Jason's death. He
should have expected it, but he hadn't. And it didn't add to his mood, which
had him riding a razor's edge already.

He looked around
the gathering, noting old friends and acquaintances and how time had not served
many of them well. The men were all paunchy and most were, at least, thinning
on top, if not outright chrome domes. The women fared a little better, though
not much. Most carried too much weight and looked frumpy.

All but one.

And she looked
absolutely edible, Lord help him.

"Is that
Cara you came in with, Brooks?" Mike Saxby asked him, nodding in Cara's
direction across the dance floor.

"Yeah."

"Is she
doing okay since Jason passed?"

Greg nodded.
"She's doing fine. Took her a while, but she's doing fine now."

Mike nodded, his
appreciative gaze firmly on Cara. "She looks fine." He shrugged a
little, then grinned at Greg. "Just sayin'."

Greg wanted to
push his toothy grin right down his throat. "Man, that's my
sister-in-law."

Mike turned
apologetic, his hands flying up in a stop motion. "Sorry, Greg. I didn't
mean anything. She looks good, that's all. I'm glad to see her looking so well,
that's all."

Greg felt like
an idiot. He scratched at the back of his head and willed his temper back down.

"Sorry,
Mike. I'm a little protective of her since Jason died."

"No sweat,
man." He shook his head then took a drink of his beer. "Completely
understandable."

But Greg knew he
didn't understand at all the feelings that were tearing him apart.  There
was nothing understandable or rational about how he was feeling about Cara. Not
the protectiveness, the hammering desire, the tenderness, the pride. None of it
added up to how a brother-in-law should feel.

The scenario
repeated itself in one fashion or another as the evening progressed. Greg
fought off man after man who came sniffing out information about Cara.
How
was she? Did she still have that dance studio out off Bee Caves Road? Didn't
she and Jason have a couple of kids? Was she seeing anyone lately?
Greg had
answered all their questions through gritted teeth and didn't give a crap that
they all thought him ridiculously over-protective and more than a little
unfriendly, if not hostile to one of the better known jerks in their class.

Oh, how he
wished he'd backed out of this promise. It couldn't get much worse than this
night was turning out to be, he thought, and turned to face the bar. He just
might drink himself to oblivion.

The band took a
break and the deejay put on something more current, more upbeat. It took only
seconds for the dance floor to fill up with line dancing females.

"Entertainment
time, boys," Saxby said with a greedy chuckle, leaning his elbows back on
the bar and making himself comfortable. "I love to watch the wenches line
dance." The string of men who'd been bellied up to the bar suddenly turned
around to watch as well, but Greg stayed the course, nursing his beer.
"Come on, Brooks. You don't want to miss this, I promise," Saxby told
him, nudging him with an elbow.

Greg turned
around on his barstool and began to watch, his gaze drawn unerringly to Cara.
She might have been all alone out there for all that he could see. He didn't
miss a single move, mesmerized by her strong, sexy legs and natural talent for
dance. But it was the hem of that filmy little short skirt that garnered most
of his attention, tantalizing him with the hope, and simultaneous fear, that it
would fly up and give him a glimpse of that gorgeous ass of hers. He'd always
been an ass man and always would be, he figured. And it just so happened that
Cara's was one of her best assets. Another strike against him tonight, he
decided as he watched her own that dance floor for the next few minutes, easily
the best-looking and most talented dancer out there.

When the dance
ended, several of the women made their way to the bar, including Cara. She
spoke with Saxby and another man whose name Greg couldn't recall, but she
lingered for a short time before seeking him out.

"You're
looking rather miserable over here, Gregory," she said for his ears only.
And that
made
him miserable. Lord, what a pathetic sot he was tonight.
He almost laughed at himself.

"I'm
beginning to be sorry I made you promise to come tonight. This is clearly not
your scene," she continued.

"Are
you
having a good time?" he asked, unable to deny her accusations.

She shrugged.
"Sure. It's all right." She searched the crowd for a moment.
"There are a couple of people I wanted to see who aren't coming. I'm
disappointed about that. But it's good to see some of the others. Some I
haven't seen in years."

"Are you
getting a lot of questions about Jason?" he asked.

"Sure. I
expected it, so it's not bothering me too badly." It must have occurred to
her that he hadn't expected it. "Is that what's got you looking so forlorn
over here?" she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't
know ... yeah, probably," he said, knowing it to be partially true, at
least.

"I'm sorry,
Greg." Her beautiful brown eyes were full of tenderness and comfort, and
he couldn't look at them and get lost in that goodness knowing she was offering
it because his brother ... her husband, was dead. Damn, this was so convoluted.

"Hey, it is
what it is," he said, dropping his gaze away from hers. Those eyes were
dangerous territory.

"Yeah, but
let's don't let it ruin the night." She
slid
her
hand all the way down his arm to his wrist and gave him a tug. "Come on.
Let's dance," she said, her tone snapping with that bubbly, contagious
happiness he couldn't resist.

They moved to
the dance floor as one song was ending and another began, a slow love ballad,
and Greg pulled her up close, one hand engulfing her smaller hand, his other
arm reaching around her waist. She came into his embrace like she'd been formed
for him. Her scent enveloped him, warm and sweet, with a hint of exotic spice
he couldn't have named. He inhaled deeply, an error in judgment, and felt it
spill into his lungs and go straight for his vitals, a potent potion for
arousal. They moved around the dance floor, her arm around his shoulders, her
breasts pressed against his chest, and Greg used every maneuver he'd ever
employed for fighting obvious arousal. If he wasn't successful, every person in
this place was going to know exactly what he was feeling for his sister-in-law
when they walked off the dance floor. He counted the steps of the dance, he
tried to remember the words to the song, he wondered when his inspection
sticker expired on his truck. Just anything to keep from thinking about the
woman in his arms and all the decadent things he wanted to do to her.

She poked her
nose nearer the open collar of his shirt and sniffed, then hummed a little
noise he felt in her body more than he heard. "You smell so good,"
she said, leaning her head back a bit to look into his eyes.