Nashville Secrets Page 5

  Mary nearly fumbled with her spoon. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she’d motivated him to buy something sexy. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. His bedroom was an obvious giveaway, too. She tried for a joke. “And here I thought they were depictions of éclairs or cream puffs.”

  He smiled a little. “No, I can’t say that they are.”

  “Silly me.” She tried to shrug off her discomfort. “But I think it’s time to wrap things up. I have to be at the bakery at 4:00 a.m. tomorrow.”

  “Do you always work that early?”

  “Yes. But I’m basically a morning person, so it’s okay.” She prattled on, attempting to get the paintings off her mind. “Plus I have weekends off. At least it’s a fairly normal schedule.”

  “I’m a morning person, too. That’s why I roll out of bed on Sundays and take Cline for those bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed walks.” He motioned to their waiter, letting him know they were ready for their bill. “But I’ll let you go so you can get some sleep.” He paused, his gaze riveted to hers. “Of course, I’m going to have to insist on escorting you to your car. I don’t want to lose you that easily.”

  Because he was still hoping to kiss her, she thought. As passionately as he could.

  Four

  Mary and Brandon stood beside her car, an old Toyota that she’d scrimped and saved to buy. Brandon’s fancy new BMW was parked a few spaces away. If she hadn’t been feeling the class difference between them before, she was certainly feeling it now. Of course, it was crazy to say that she hadn’t been feeling it before. Wealth and power illuminated him like the sun. Or the son, she thought, of one of Nashville’s most successful superstars. Thank God he didn’t look like Kirby. If he favored his father, she didn’t think she could tolerate being this close to him. She certainly wouldn’t want him the way she did. A want. A need. A disaster waiting to happen.

  She backed herself against the driver’s door of her car. But that was a bad move. That only allowed him to step even closer, pinning her in place and using his body as the anchor.

  He looked sharp and fashionable in clothes, but she suspected that he would look even better naked.

  Really? She was thinking about that now? Yes, damn it, she was. And she suspected that if she pulled his shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants and tore the buttons open, she would find rock-hard abs underneath.

  She hadn’t seen any shirtless pictures of him. He didn’t post that kind. No beachfront vacation shots, nothing that bared him to the public. But she was filling in the blanks.

  He said, “When I was a teenager, I used to take my dates to this pretty spot in the country to make out.” He reached out to skim his knuckles across her cheek. “I’ve never made out in a parking lot with streetlights glaring overhead.”

  His touch, just that one simple touch, made her shiver. “We aren’t making out. We’re just standing here.”

  “We aren’t teenagers, either.” He ran his thumb across her mouth, even rolling it across the inside of her bottom lip and making his thumb wet.

  Foreplay to a kiss, she thought. If she hadn’t been braced against the car, she might’ve lost her footing.

  “Are you going to let me kiss you?” he asked. “Are you going to let this happen?”

  She should’ve told him, “No.” But she whispered a soft and throaty, “Yes.”

  He did it. He captured her lips, dragging her under his spell and stealing the last of her sanity.

  His tongue made contact with hers, and she moaned into his mouth. He cupped her chin, and she made another pleasured sound. Lust burned her skin, scorching her, heating her from the inside out. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tighter, wanting to scorch him, too.

  Was he as aroused as she was? Was he hard and hungry, his muscles bunching, his body tingling?

  They rubbed and kissed, two people who barely knew each other, going PDA outside a popular restaurant.

  He came to his senses first and eased away from her. Now that it was over, ambient sounds merged into focus and abraded her ears. Other patrons were walking to their cars and talking.

  “Mary, Mary, quite contrary...” Brandon’s voice was rough. “I don’t think I ever thought about that rhyme until now.”

  Her mother used to recite it to her, but hearing him say it was a whole other matter. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”

  “That’s not good. I’m already keeping you from your bed.”

  Her bed was going to be a dicey place from now on. “My room gets hot sometimes. The air-conditioning vent in there never seems to work right, and the maintenance department at our building isn’t so great about fixing things.”

  “So that’s what’s going to keep you up? A humid summer night in Tennessee?”

  He was making the weather seem more humid than it was. But the world seemed hotter and stickier with Brandon Talbot in it. “Summers in Oklahoma can be this way, too.”

  “What do you sleep in to stay cool?” he asked, making her throat go dry.

  This was beginning to sound like phone sex, but they were talking eye to eye, face-to-face. “Just whatever feels right.” Her panties and bra, an old T-shirt, a lightweight nightgown. But tonight, she was tempted to sleep naked, to thrash and moan and fantasize about him. “I better go now.”

  “All right, but when are we going see each other again?”

  In her dreams, she thought. Or maybe it would be in her nightmares. She was getting hooked on a man who’d helped hurt her mother. Even if he hadn’t done it purposely, he was still connected to Mama’s pain.

  “When, Mary?” he asked again.

  “I don’t know.” Her confusion was growing by leaps and bounds. “Let’s figure it out later.”

  “Okay.” He leaned in to kiss her again. But this time, it was gentlemanly, a protective peck on the cheek. “Will you text me to let me know you got home safe?”

  She nodded, then turned to open her car door. She climbed behind the wheel and locked herself inside, afraid that she would never feel safe again.

  The following week, Mary spent Saturday afternoon with Brandon. She’d had nine days to recover from his kiss. But she wasn’t doing a very good job of bouncing back. He was all she thought about.

  Once again, she took her own car and met him at the designated location: a gallery that specialized in naïve art. Mary didn’t even know that genre existed, but she soon learned that it referred to works created by artists who lacked formal training. Most of it seemed to have a childlike perspective, concentrating on animals, people and plants, rather than inanimate objects. She noticed lots of bold colors, too.

  As they wandered the brightly lit gallery, Brandon said, “I’m looking for a piece to give Tommy and Sophie for the nursery. The due date is getting closer, and I want to send something over before the baby arrives.” He stopped in front of a painting that depicted trees that resembled lollipops. “They’re having a girl, and they’re going to name her Zoe. They’re using Sloane as her middle name because that was Sophie’s mom’s name, and they want to honor her. Sophie’s mom died soon after Sophie was born. Her dad is gone, too. He passed away a few years back.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry for her losses.” Mary gazed at the lollipop-tree picture, which also had a rainbow shooting across the sky and a river with fish jumping out of the water. “I understand how she feels. But it’s just so hard to...” She let her words drift. She could feel him watching her.

  A second later, he said, “I understand that talking about your parents is difficult. But if you ever need anyone to confide in, I’m a good listener.”

  “Thank you.” He was the last person she could confide in about her parents. Needing to redirect his attention, she gestured to the painting. “Are you considering this one for Zoe’s nursery?”

  He shook his head.
“I don’t think it’s girlie enough. They decorated in pink, with bows and frills and whatnot. So I’d like to find something along that vein.”

  “Do they have a theme? Like butterflies or flowers or anything?”

  “They put silver stars on the ceiling. I think that has something to do with how they’d stargazed in Texas when they were visiting Matt and Libby. But it’s not a theme, per se. Mostly the room is just pink and pretty.” He paused and added, “I don’t have any experience with babies, but I’m excited about being an uncle. It’s been fun getting to know Libby’s son, too. Chance is a charming kid.”

  Mary nodded. Seven-year-old Chance had been mentioned in the book, in particular that he’d been named after one of Kirby’s most famous songs. Libby was widowed, and she and her late husband were fans of Kirby’s long before she’d ever been hired to be his biographer.

  Brandon continued by saying, “There’s a lot going on with my brothers this summer. Not just with Tommy and Sophie’s daughter coming into the world, but also with Matt and Libby. Their wedding is in August.”

  There was nothing going on with her or Alice, aside from them trying to give Mama the vindication she deserved. Mary envied Brandon the happy journeys his family was embarking upon.

  “Thanks for coming here with me,” he said. “It’s going to help to have a woman’s touch in picking something out.”

  “You could have hired someone to choose something. Or told the gallery what you were looking for.” He had all sorts of people at his disposal. Even the gallery owner knew him by name. “You don’t really need me.”

  “I think I do.” He reached for her hand.

  She threaded her fingers through his, tighter than she should have. The more time she spent with him, the more her attraction to him escalated. She already felt as if she was being seduced by him, maybe even in the same way his father had seduced her mother.

  How long would it be before she tumbled into bed with him? Before he did wicked things to her? Mary suspected that Mama had resisted Kirby at first, too.

  But she kept telling herself that she wasn’t going to sleep with Brandon. That she didn’t want to carry her revenge that far.

  Needing a diversion, she let go of his hand and walked over to a picture called Magic.

  Brandon followed her and looked at it, too. Then he said, “That’s too grown-up for a baby’s room.”

  “I know. I was just admiring it.” A crimson-haired fairy was blowing dandelions into the wind. She definitely had an adult quality, as if she might be a siren of sorts. Naïve art could obviously showcase mature subjects, too. “I think it’s alluring.”

  “I can buy it for you.”

  She started. “What?”

  “I said that I can buy that painting for you. Do you want it, Mary? Do you want to take it home and put it in your bedroom?”

  “You don’t have to buy me anything.” She wasn’t comfortable accepting gifts from him.

  “But it’s obvious how drawn you are to it. And the fairy is a redhead, like you.”

  “That isn’t why she appeals to me.” Then again, maybe it was. But she didn’t want to say that.

  He moved closer, nuzzling his cheek against her hair. “It would be nice to know that she’s watching over you at night, creating enchantment while you sleep.”

  He was intensifying the moment, making the fairy an instrument of desire between them. “Will you tell me about the paintings you have in your room?” she asked, curious to know what pictures she’d inspired.

  He all but whispered his response. “They’re erotic, but they’re romantic, too. Nothing like I’ve ever bought before.”

  She spoke just as softly, not wanting anyone to overhear them. “It’s strange, knowing you got them because of me.”

  “I couldn’t seem to help it.”

  And she couldn’t help feeling aroused by the idea. But nonetheless, she shouldn’t be having this conversation with him. They’d come here to find something for Zoe’s nursery, not talk about erotic art.

  They continued to browse. A short time later, Mary came across a painting with a pink-and-purple carousel, an animated piece with joyous energy.

  “This is adorable,” she said. “It even has ribbons and bows on the frame.”

  “That is pretty cool.” Brandon smiled like the expectant uncle he was. “Totally perfect for a nursery. I knew you’d be my good luck charm today.”

  She stayed in the background while he purchased the painting, and after he made the transaction, he said, “They’re going to ship it to Tommy’s house.” They walked outside and he added, “I wish you would’ve let me buy the fairy for you.”

  “Buying me gifts isn’t necessary.” She wasn’t comfortable being put in that position. None of this was comfortable.

  “Okay, but this is getting crazy, with you taking your own car every time we go out. You have to start trusting me, Mary.”

  The way her mother had trusted his father? The comparison set her on edge. “It’s only our second date.”

  “And we need to make the most of it. Let’s go to my loft. We can fix some lunch and eat on the roof.” He moved closer. “Cline would love to see you.”

  She inhaled the enticing scent of his skin. “Are you using your dog as bait to get me to go home with you?”

  “Yes, I am.” He took her into his arms and hugged her, warm and tight, using that as bait, too.

  * * *

  Brandon had never chased anyone the way he was chasing Mary. He’d never had to. The women he dated fit naturally into the world he’d carved out for himself, but Mary seemed reluctant to be part of it. So he’d wanted to buy her a gift? So what? His other lovers would have accepted it without hesitation. Of course, Mary wasn’t his lover. But that shouldn’t matter. It was just a painting.

  He looked in his rearview mirror. She was following him in her car. At least he’d gotten her to come to his loft. He was eager to spend the rest of the afternoon with her.

  She was an enigma and so was her family. A wild sister and deceased parents she didn’t want to talk about. Brandon wasn’t a morbidly curious person. But he did wonder how she’d lost her parents. Was it an accident? Had they died recently? Or had they been gone a long time?

  Maybe once he met her sister, he would get a better feel for who Mary was. Except that she hadn’t offered to introduce him to Alice. Was she keeping him away from her apartment because she wasn’t ready for him to get acquainted with Alice? Or was he reading more into this than there was?

  He’d already taken the liberty of checking out Alice’s Instagram, and she was just as Mary had described her: a party girl with a flair for fashion. As far as he could tell, Mary didn’t do any social media. But he intended to ask her about it.

  At least he knew that Mary was close to her sister, with how often she talked about her. Brandon had always been tight with his family. Once he decided to become an attorney, he’d specialized in entertainment law so he could represent his parents and Tommy. He had other clients, but his family was his priority.

  Even when he’d first heard about his half brother, when he’d learned his dad had a secret kid out there, Brandon was interested in Matt. Blood was blood, as far as he was concerned.

  He rechecked his mirror, making sure Mary was still behind him. He couldn’t begin to guess what kind of childhood she’d had, but he suspected that she’d had a hand in raising her sister. Or she was at least trying to provide some sort of guidance now.

  He turned onto a side street and entered a small underground parking structure, using a code to open the gate. Once he parked, he motioned to Mary, telling her to take the space next to him.

  They exited their vehicles, and she asked, “Where is everyone else? All of the other cars?”

  “Everyone else parks on the other side, from a different entrance. This is my private lot.�
� He guided her toward an elevator. “That’s mine, too. It requires a key to open it.”

  “You have your own parking lot and your own elevator?”

  “I own the building. I lease space to other tenants, but I like having this part of it to myself. The entire top floor and the roof are mine, too. Overall, it’s a great location, and it’s close to my office.” He unlocked the elevator. “Sometimes convenience matters.” To make life easier, he thought. But at the moment, it didn’t seem easy.

  They stepped inside, and he pushed the button. She stood near the wall and smoothed the front of her loose-fitting blouse.

  Brandon ran his gaze over her, aroused by her modesty. He’d never made love in an elevator, and he was fairly certain that she’d never done it, either. Funny thing, too. His friends kept telling him that he should start seeing nice girls. But nice girls weren’t supposed to trigger these types of fantasies.

  The ride was painfully quiet. He was still fixated on elevator sex.

  Once the door opened onto his floor, he led her down the hall. With how the loft was designed, his front door was at the very end, and now it seemed like a long and grueling walk. “In the future, I can give you the code to the gate and a key to the elevator so you can come up here on your own.”

  She furrowed her brow. “How many codes and keys have you given out?”

  “Honestly? None.”

  “Then how do people visit you?”

  “I leave their names at the security desk, and the guard in the lobby notifies me when they arrive. For my regular visitors, their names are always on the list. But Security still lets me know when they’re here.”

  She stopped walking, the sconce lighting in the hallway illuminating her face. “But you’d let me bypass your security?”

  “Yes.” With how strong his fantasies were about her, he was willing to make an exception. “I can give you a key to the loft itself, and then you can just come over whenever you want to see me.” To offer herself to him, he thought. To become his lover. “Maybe even in the middle of the night when I least expect you.”