A Passion Denied (41 page)

“You’re not a heel, Collin, you’re a human being who, like the rest of the human race, has heel tendencies. Have you prayed about it?”

Collin blinked. “What?”

Brady’s lips twisted, as if fighting a smile. “You know, asked God to help you be the supportive husband Faith needs, or asked him to bless her in this situation?”

Collin’s jaw dropped. “And why would I do that? I don’t
want
her to be a copywriter.”

“No, but if it happens, apparently God does. We’re going for his agenda, not yours, remember? You’ve been asking God that if Faith is supposed to quit, she would, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if she gets promoted, looks to me like it’s where she’s supposed to be right now. You’re just going to have to trust God for the timing of your family and pray to be the husband Faith needs right now—supportive and proud of her.”

Collin expelled all the frustration he was feeling in one draining breath. “I know. And I am proud of her. She’s a great writer and a hard worker and she deserves this promotion.” He glanced up. “But you gotta help me out here, Brady. What do I do besides pray?”

“Tell her how proud you are, then encourage her, celebrate with a surprise party when she gets the promotion, no matter how you feel inside. Make it a big deal, because it is. She has the rest of her life to be the mother of your children—let her enjoy her dream for however long she can.” Brady stood to his feet and held the dirty rag out, his grin stretching ear to ear. “And for pity’s sake, pray for God to help you be happy for her and content with it. Then wipe that ink off your face. You’re starting to look like me.”

Collin grabbed the ink-streaked towel and wiped his cheek. He tossed it aside and opened his top desk drawer to pull out an apple Faith had packed in his lunch. “Thanks, John. But if I wanted to look like you, I’d have to paste a goofy grin on my face and offend your delicate sensitivities with off-key whistling. I don’t know what’s been driving me crazier the last few weeks—the whistling or the nonstop smiles. What’s got you in such a chipper mood these days? Can’t be just the new hire.”

Ruddy color stained Brady’s thick neck, and Collin leaned forward with a grin. “So, what’s up? You got a lady you’ve been hiding from me?”

For all of his six-foot-three height, John Brady looked more like an awkward high schooler with his fists shoved deep in his pockets and his cheeks as red as the apple in Collin’s hand. His throat bobbed, but the grin still shone on his face. “I think so, Collin. I’m in love.”

Mid-bite, Collin began to choke, prompting Brady to slap him hard on the back. Collin waved him away and gaped. “What?”

Brady sat back on the desk, exposing more teeth than Collin had ever seen. “I’m in love, Collin—for the first time in my life—in every possible way. Spiritually, emotionally, mentally, physically.”

Collin shook his head in disbelief, the apple limp in his hand. “Who?”

Brady grinned again, and Collin would have laid money on the table that the man’s facial muscles were going to be screaming tonight, given his smile that bordered on delirium.

“Beth,” Brady whispered.

Collin sat straight up. “Our Beth?
Lizzie?
”

Brady nodded, his face beaming like a man who had just seen the face of God.

“What? When? Sweet saints, does she even know?”

“Nope, not yet. I’m planning on taking it real slow, getting to know her as a woman, to make sure I can handle it before I let her know. I think the feelings of shame are gone, but I want to make sure so I don’t hurt her again. I’m taking her fishing with Katie and Cluny this weekend, kind of like a date, only she doesn’t know that.”

A dozen questions ricocheted in Collin’s mind as he stared, his jaw sagging low. “I don’t understand. How? When? Why did this all happen? I thought you couldn’t go there.”

Brady’s grin softened into a smile. “I couldn’t, not until Father Mac helped me get past it. I’ve been counseling with him for the last four months. I finally realized I’ve been in love with Beth all along, only the shame of my past wouldn’t allow me to see it. But I’m free now, and with God’s help, I intend to make her my wife.”

For several seconds, Collin just stared, certain his mouth would lock in the gaping position as surely as Brady’s smile would permanently freeze on his face. And then a mist of joy sprang to his eyes and he bolted from the chair, seizing his friend in a fierce embrace. “Sweet chorus of angels, John, I couldn’t be happier. Brothers at last!”

Brady’s voice was gruff. “I know, Collin. I never thought I could be this happy.”

Collin slapped him on the back and then pumped his hand in a hearty handshake. “It’s nothing short of God’s blessings, my friend, long, long overdue—” His words suddenly fused to his tongue. The smile faded from his face.

Brady frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Collin’s chest tightened as he thought of Lizzie and the secret Faith had sworn him to.

“Collin? Something’s wrong—what is it?”

Collin looked away and threaded his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, yeah, there is. I don’t think it’s anything serious yet, but—”

Brady latched a hand to his arm and jerked him around. “You have to tell me—is Lizzie seeing someone?”

Collin studied his friend, measuring his words carefully. “She’s been seeing your brother—you know that.”

The tension in Brady’s face eased a bit as he removed his hand from Collin’s arm. “Yeah, I know that. Going to church with her and an occasional dinner at the house. But she promised me, Collin, promised she’d only fall for a man who loves God with all of his heart. And that’s not Michael, I can tell you that.”

Collin turned and slumped into his chair, eyeing Brady through wary eyes. “No, no, it’s not. But I have to tell you, ol’ buddy, the dinners have been more than occasional, and the spiritual effort more than convincing. Your brother’s a charmer, John, and everybody knows that Lizzie’s a romantic. I can’t go into it, but I’m telling you now. If you are going to make your move, I suggest you do it sooner rather than later.”

Brady stared, the smile completely wiped from his face. “What do you know, Collin? What do you know about Lizzie’s feelings for Michael?”

“I can’t go into it, Brady, but trust me on this.”

Brady hovered over his desk, ink-stained hands pressed white on the marred surface. “I want to know, right now. Is Beth falling for my brother?”

“I can’t tell you that, John, but read between the lines.”

“Did Faith tell you something I should know?”

“Yeah, she did. But she also made me promise not to tell you.”

Brady leaned in, his eyes burning with a fury that Collin had seldom seen. “So help me, Collin, if you don’t tell me right now, I will come across this desk . . .”

Collin stared at his friend, indecision roiling in his gut. He’d promised his wife because she’d promised her sister. But Brady had a right to know—Lizzie belonged with him. He took a deep breath and prayed to heaven that Faith would never find out. “He’s in love with her, Brady, or at least he told her so.”

“He’s lying.”

“Maybe, but Lizzie doesn’t seem to think so. He says he can give her what you can’t.”

Brady stared, his eyes glazed like a man who’d gone without sleep for days on end. A nerve fluttered in his cheek. “That no-good, lousy—”

“He asked her to think about it, to pray about it.”

A swear word hissed from Brady’s mouth, the sound strange to Collin’s ears. Brady’s fist bludgeoned Collin’s desk. “He’s using her!”

“I don’t think so, John,” Collin whispered, reluctant to go on. “He wants to marry her.”

Brady sucked in a sharp breath, and his face paled. His shoulders sagged as he put a hand to his head. “But she doesn’t love him.”

“No, but she’s confused. And he’s not making it easy on her.”

Brady glanced up, a razor edge to his voice. “What do you mean?”

Collin shifted in the chair. “So help me, God, if Faith ever finds out I told you this—”

“Spit it out it, Collin . . .
now
!”

Collin weighed his options and decided if he were in Brady’s place, he’d want to know. Besides, he’d already said enough to break his promise to Faith; what was one more detail? He locked eyes with his friend. “According to Faith, Michael’s kissed Lizzie several times, and it’s muddied the waters for her.” Collin drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Faith seems to think Lizzie’s falling for him, John.”

Brady tried to breathe, but the air adhered to the walls of his throat. He stared in a daze as Collin’s words taunted in his brain.
Lizzie’s falling for him, John.

“John!”

Brady blinked and Collin blurred back into view, his brow wrinkled with worry.

“You have to tell her you love her. Right away. You can’t afford to wait.”

Brady closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down. He would get through this. God didn’t bring him this far to lose Beth to his brother. A cold shiver quivered through him, and he opened his eyes. “I can’t, Collin. And you can’t tell Faith, either. I need you to swear to me. I’m not going to risk hurting Beth again if I can’t handle the intimacy between us. Not until I know I’m totally free. I won’t hurt her again. I can’t—I love her too much.”

Collin stared, his mouth set in a grim line. “Then you may lose her, John.”

Brady stood to his feet and rolled the kinks from his neck. Suddenly he felt as tired and worn as the overheated press in the back room. “No, I won’t. There’s another way.” He peered down at Collin, his gaze intense. “Swear to me, Collin, now . . . that you won’t tell Faith.”

Collin studied him for several seconds before releasing a heavy sigh. “I swear, but so help me, John, you better have a foolproof plan up your sleeve.”

“I do.” His mouth settled into a thin line. “I’ll just give my brother what he wants.”

Collin shot him a narrow gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s a good thing we hired that pressman when we did. He starts next Monday, right?”

“Yeah, but what’s that got to do with your brother?”

Brady swiped the dirty rag from the desk and slung it over his shoulder. He gave Collin a pointed look. “I’m almost caught up, but I suggest you get him in here now—
today
—because come Monday, I’m going to New York.”

Collin sat up in the chair. His eyes circled in shock. “New York? What the blazes for?”

“To make a deal with the devil,” Brady muttered. He headed toward the back room with resolve stiffening his spine. He tightened his jaw and shot his partner a look intended to end all discussion. “Get the new hire in here today, Collin, and I’ll be back in a few hours to help you break him in.”

And before Collin could answer, Brady jerked his jacket off the hook and slammed the door behind, leaving his partner little choice but to comply.

Brady stood on School Street and gazed up at the gleaming white marble front of the fourteen-story Parker House Hotel, wondering which room would be the scene of the crime. A scowl tipped the edges of his clamped lips. The crime his brother had committed in using Beth for his own purposes.
And
the crime he was about to commit in rewarding him for his efforts. Despite the brisk day, Brady shoved the rolled-up sleeves of his starched white shirt farther up his arms and reached for the sculpted bronze doors of one of Boston’s luxury hotels, a prestigious landmark since 1855. He entered the oak-paneled lobby with its crystal chandeliers and elegant furnishings, once frequented by the likes of Thoreau, Hawthorne, Longfellow, and Dickens, and felt an immediate surge of anger. It was the perfect place for the upper class. But as far as Brady was concerned, it was no place for his brother, who had no class at all. Even without the inheritance, he didn’t need the money, and yet he’d had no qualms about using Beth to force Brady’s hand.

Brady ignored the curious looks from various well-to-do guests in the plush lobby, and made his way to the imposing marble front desk. Once Collin had spilled the bad news, Brady had left him in a stupor and gone home to clean up and change. But even with his fresh-scrubbed face, clean shirt, and newly pressed seersucker slacks, he was no match for the fashionably dressed clientele of The Parker, and the look of surprise on the clerk’s face indicated as much.

“Why, good morning, Mr. Brady. You’re up and about early today. I don’t believe the mail has arrived yet, but how may I be of assistance?”

Brady gave the clerk a tight-lipped smile. “I’m John Brady, looking for my brother, Michael. May I have his room number, please?”

Comprehension flooded the man’s face, coupled with relief, no doubt, that the modestly dressed gentleman before him was not a guest. “Yes, sir, of course. Suite 315. You may use the elevator across the lobby or the staircase to your right. Good day, Mr. Brady.”

Brady mumbled his thanks and took the stairs two at time, barely out of breath when he reached the third landing. His heart was pumping at a fast clip, but not from the steps. Thinly disguised fury simmered beneath his calm exterior, and he flexed his clenched fingers to ease the tension. He saw the glint of a brass-plated room number on a suite at the end of the hall and strode toward the door. With several hard thrusts, he hammered the paneled oak with his fist, totally indifferent to the fact that it was only nine a.m. and his brother was probably still asleep.