Chapter 6

Her honestly surprised him. As a preteen, she'd done little to hide her crush on him. At first, he'd been flattered but uninterested. By the time she'd been old enough to stir his interest, he'd been playing ball for her father's team for three years. So when her father asked him to back off, he had.

"We were?"

"Oh yeah. At sixteen, I thought you were everything I wanted in a husband."

Now he couldn't help wondering if there's been more to her crush than he'd expected. But unlike when she'd take about the store, her tone held no regret. Only whimsy.

He couldn't resist playing along. "Tell me about us. What kind of couple are we?"

Her lips curved into a smile every bit as playful as the glint in her eyes. "The perfect couple of course."

"How did we fall in love?" It wasn't the only question he had about this little fantasy of hers, but it was probably the safest.

"Over Christmas, while you were still in college." SHe tilted her head back, her eyes drifting closed. "Our first kiss was like a scene out of a movie. Passing through a doorway, we got caught under the mistletoe. You kissed me because it was tradition, but we both felt something more." She paused, caught up in the memory of things never done. "The next week, you drove Jessica and me to a New Year's Eve party. You claimed you didn't want us out on the road with so many drunk drivers. But at midnight, you made sure you and I were alone."

Her words stirred a memory. Years ago, he had driven them to a New Year's Eve party ...no, not New Year's Eve. She'd been dressed as a tawny striped cat. Her leotard had accentuated her budding curves and the tail had drawn his attention to her petite but nicely rounded bottom. The following Christmas he's made damn sure he wasn't around whenever she'd stopped by the house. At nineteen, the three years separating their ages seemed impenetrable.

Now, three years seemed like nothing and he cursed his "noble" instincts. "Then what happened?"

Her eyes snapped open. She blinked as if waking from a dream. She turned towards him again, just enough for him to see the blush creeping across her cheeks. "Just your basic falling in love and getting married kind of stuff."

But her blush gave her away. There was more, much more to that part of the fantasy. His body clamored to hear it. Logic, however, prevailed and he forced himself to change the subject.

"If I remember right, you always wanted to join the Peace Corps."

She shot him a surprised look. "I can't believe you remember that."

He laughed. "Where was it you wanted to go? Panama or something?"

"Brazil, actually. In the rainforest."

"The rainforest? Are you sure you didn't just want to vacation in Brazil? Carnival in Ro is supposed to be spectacular."

She wrinkled her nose in exaggerated disgust. "Yes, I'm sure."

He shook his head. "I can't imagine living in such poverty."

But Mattie? He could easily imagine her in the Peace Corps. He pictured her as she'd been in high school, hair pulled back in a ponytail, face free of makeup, dressed in no-nonsense jeans and a T-shirt as she lugged football equipment out to the field or helped her grandfather with the yard work.

He could imagine her like that now, the perfect complement to an exotic, lush landscape, smiling, her face flushed with exertion as she playfully goaded others into enjoying the hard work.

He could also imagine living out the fantasies he'd had back in high school. Luring her away from the crowd to some secluded spot where he'd pull the T-shirt from her body and lavish attention on every inch of her sun-kissed skin.

Forget the Peace Corps. He could imagine doing that damn near anywhere.

She eyes him speculatively and he was glad she couldn't read his thoughts. She'd kick his ass right out onto the street.

And he'd probably deserve it. He hadn't come for this. He had no intention of spending these two weeks lusting after his high school crush. He hadn't planned on even seeing her. Until this afternoon, Mattie had been safely relegated to the realm of "the one that got away."

And if they were going to spend the next two weeks in the same house, she'd probably better stay there. 

Trying to remind himself of that, he teased her, "So what did you want to do in the Peace Corps? Bring medical supplies to the needy? Build schools for the impoverished? Heal the sick and dying?"

She laughed. "Hey, it was my fantasy. I could make myself as saintly as I wanted to be."

With a languorous stretch, she stood, a clear cue she was done reminiscing. But Brad wasn't ready to let her go yet. Not even close.

He stood, too, angling himself between the house and her chair. Before she could shy away from him, he gave in to the urge to touch an errant lock of her hair. As he toyed with the strand, he couldn't help treading into dangerous territory. "What about the fantasies where you're not saintly. Do you want to share any of those?"

Mattie blinked in surprise. "I didn't have many of those when I was sixteen."

The glimmer of awareness in her eyes assured him she was lying. "And now?"

She didn't flinch. "Now, those are the fantasies I don't share with anyone."

But he saw in her eyes a hesitation, as if, despite her denials, she wanted to share those fantasies with him.

He could have just asked...allowed her the chance to say more. Instead, he gave in to the impulse that had been driving him all afternoon. The impulse to pull her into his arms. To taste her mouth. To find out if she really was as sweet and as hot as he'd always imagined. To just kiss her.

Her lips were pliant, and he could almost taste her surprise as they opened beneath his. Her mouth still held the lingering flavor of her last sips of beer, the hint of hops; pleasant but unexpected. Faint, but powerful. Just like the scent of her.

He felt her hand reaching up to rest on his arm, her breath quickening to match his. Her body arching towards him in a gesture of unconscious acquiescence. He pulled her closer to him, one hand at her hip, the other burrowing into her hair at the nape of her neck. Her skin was velvety and warm, so soft he wanted to taste everywhere he touched. And everywhere he hadn't yet touched.

A potent rush of excitement washed over him as he felt her reaction to him. It mingled with his desire, heating his blood, driving him to deepen the kiss. To mold her body to his, to explore not only her mouth, but all the secret, dark places of her body. To possess her until she surrendered completely.

As soon as his control began to slip he pulled back. Dropping his hands, he stepped aside t let her pass.

In the moment it took her eyes to flutter open, he had to tighten his rein on his reaction to her. Bathed in moonlight, she was so damn beautiful. So damn vulnerable.

He ached to both take her and protect her. Too bad he couldn't do one without sacrificing the other.

When her eyes finally opened, they were filled with questions. He gave her the only answer he could. "I probably shouldn't have done that."

Her eyes flashed from sensual compliance to frustrated annoyance. "Why? Because I'm like a sister to you?"

No.

Because she'd never been like a sister to him. And because he'd never again be able to lie to himself and claim she was.

With a shake of her head, she started back for the house. "Boa noite."

As she moved, he grabbed her wrist, her pulse leaping under his fingertips. She looked sharply from her arm to his face, her fleeting expression of intense longing momentarily stealing his word.

Finally, he asked, "So did you ever join the Peace Corps?"

She extracted her wrist from his grasp. "No."

"Why not?"

"I married Mike instead."

And apparently her husband, unlike the imaginary one she's dreamed of at sixteen, hadn't been willing to give up two years of his life so she could fulfill her dream. It sounded like a dream she still harbored. Boa noite sounded like Portuguese, the language she would have spoken had she joined the Peace Corps. Part of her must still yearn for everything she'd given up for her husband.

Selfish bastard. Mike, whoever he was, deserved to be sot.

Brad couldn't help noticing the irony, though. Ginger had called him a selfish bastard more times than he could count. And now...when he was trying so hard not to be a selfish bastard...he couldn't shake the feeling he'd done it again.

Suddenly he felt the need to make amends, not only for his own failings but for her ex's as well.

"Mattie, I..." She paused by the door and turned to look at him again. "I'm sorry your life didn't turn out as planned."

Her face was half-hidden in the shadows, obscuring her expression. Her lips twisted into a smile, but unable to see her eyes, he couldn't tell f humor or bittersweet regret fueled it.

"I'm not," she insisted. "Remember? No regret. Besides," she added, "like I said before, we don't always know what's good for us."

Ain't that the truth.

This time, she slipped through the door before he could stop her. For a long time after she'd gone in, he stayed by the pool watching the reflection of the ascending moon.

She was right, he realized. The young didn't know what was good for them. At twenty-four he'd married Ginger, attracted to her beauty, social poise and appetite for sex. He thought she was everything he could ever want, gracious and charming n public, passionate in private.

God, had he been wrong. He'd tried to make it work. For seven long years, he'd stuck with her, burying himself in his work to make up for his unhappiness at home. But the only thing more important to him than his business was having a family.

Not like a cold, sterile family he'd grown up in, but a real family. The kind that played flag football on the front lawn at Thanksgiving. That had birthday parties with crazily decorated homemade cakes. Silly Fourth-of-July celebrations, with hot dogs burning on the grill and jumbo packages of firecrackers bought by the side of the road. And honest-to-God real apple pie, fresh from the oven.

Who was he kidding? He wanted Mattie's family. Her family was unconventional. She'd lost her mother at a young age and then she'd been raised by her father and her grandparents. But her family had still been more real to him than his had. Her family had a warmth that his family...with all its wealth and social prestige...simply couldn't match.

When he and Ginger dated, she'd seemed perfect. At parties and social events, she'd been the center of attention. She was always so warm and charming, and he'd believed she'd be both the perfect asset to his career and the perfect mother for his children.

But after they married, something changed. She'd grown more and more dissatisfied with their life together. Colder and more withdrawn. When she'd finally made it clear that she had no intention of carrying a child and even less interest in raising someone's brats, he'd called it quits. He'd never been sure if she'd genuinely hated children or merely said what she'd known was guaranteed to drive hm away.

Looking back on it, he was surprised he'd lasted as long as he had. 

No regret, Mattie had said. He had nothing but regrets. And now, after listening to her weave that fantasy of hers, he had even more.

Mattie as a teenager had been delightful. Fun, open and loving. But her father had told him beyond a doubt that she was too young for a serious relationship.

Mattie had made it clear she no longer mourned the life she'd once imagined them living together. She'd fallen in love with someone else. Married and lived with another man. A man who'd hijacked her dreams and a broken heart. She must have loved her husband very much to have no regrets about the sacrifices she'd made. Maybe she still loved him.

All of which only complicated their situation more. Seeing Mattie again after all these years only stirring up the attraction he'd felt for her back in high school. He was no longer her father's quarterback and she was no longer too young. But whether she knew it or not, she was still emotionally vulnerable.

With the kind of chemistry they had, a few simple kisses would lead to hours...if not days...together in bed. But what if she wanted more?"

Marriage to him had already made one warm and loving woman miserable. There was no way in hell he'd risk having Mattie look at him with the same kind of contempt Ginger had. 

So as tempted as he was to follow Mattie back into the house and explore that sassy little mouth of hers, he just couldn't risk it. He had to keep his hands and desires under control. Which meant the next two weeks were going to be hell.