Just One Week (3 page)

“So, Alex, are you finally going to tell us what happened eight years ago?” Chase asked.

Chapter Two

“No, I’m not.” Alex popped the trunk on the BMW and bent to retrieve Michelle’s luggage. He’d driven up from San Francisco a couple of days earlier and had already stashed all his things in his old room. With Kyle in the guest room, the arrangements were going to get interesting. Mom had put Michelle in the cottage, not knowing the history he and Michelle had in that space. He’d have to get her things inside before she found out and flatly refused to stay there.

He lifted her bag from the trunk just as Chase came around and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, at least you can stop pining for her.”

Alex slammed the trunk closed. “I do not pine.”

“Whatever,” Chase said. “Are you going to settle things between you?”

He blew out a breath. “That’s the plan.”

“You blame yourself for her running off, don’t you?” Chase said.

“That’s probably not a bad idea, seeing as it was my fault.”

“Did you ever consider you’re too tough on yourself?”

“Again…no.” Alex grabbed the handle of the bag and headed down the path toward the cottage. Built several decades after the main house, the smaller structure had been designed as an art studio for his great-grandmother. When she died, the family converted it in to guest quarters. Nothing more than a bedroom and simple bathroom, it nevertheless had the same ornate woodwork and pitched roof. The sun hit it early, making air conditioning a necessity during the hot days of summer. This time of year, though, the warmth felt good on cool mornings.

Chase followed him…of course.

“You can go in with the others,” Alex said. “I don’t need your help.”

“To the contrary, big brother. You need all the help you can get.”

Alex opened the cottage door and pulled the bag inside. His mom had obviously been at work. She normally kept everything clean, and for Michelle’s visit she’d put a handmade quilt on the brass bed and added several throw pillows. The bathroom had extra towels, and a planter of multi-colored pansies sat on the sink.

His great-grandmother’s paintings still adorned the walls. Illustrations of the farm with the foothills in the distance. Some depicted smaller subjects, like the native wildflowers—California poppies and lupines. Lupines like the ones he’d cut and put into a Mason jar of water on the windowsill.

Chase didn’t miss a thing, his gaze landing on the flowers. “Your doing?”

Alex shrugged. “She likes them.”

“Wildflowers usually wilt when you cut them,” Chase said.

“So the plant’ll make more.” He hadn’t thought that much about the wildflowers and lots about how it would actually feel to confront Michelle in this room again. The space seemed so much smaller than he remembered. They’d rub shoulders—or more—in here, and given his real physical reaction to her figure, things could get more than interesting if he couldn’t control his libido. He’d have to. He was
not
about to discuss their relationship in front of his family. He’d have to do it alone with her in here.

“Michelle’s done well with her life,” Chase said. “But then, so have you.”

“She has a PhD in biochemistry. I play a game for a living.”

Chase plopped down on the bed, resting his elbow on the brass footer. “You’re All-Pro.”

“At playing a game.”

“Come on, Alex,” Chase said. “You probably make her year’s salary in a couple of hours.”

“Money isn’t everything.” Alex had never wanted for anything growing up, but even with his advantages, he could never approach her academic success. And he could hardly take over the family business when his dad retired. Publishing wasn’t exactly an enterprise for a slow reader who needed someone’s help to write a business letter. He’d done the best with what he had, but a great intellect or man of letters, he wasn’t.

“The two of you would make a great match,” Chase said.

“Mickey and me?” He almost hooted at that.

“You and Dr. Michelle Dennis. I’m pretty sure that’s what Mom has in mind.”

“Oh, no, she wouldn’t,” Alex said even though his mind instantly registered the truth of what Chase implied. “I mean, she couldn’t think…”

Chase leaned back against the bed, his hands beneath his head. “You know Mom’s become a real matchmaker in the last few years.”

He did. His mother had recently discovered she was a positive genius at manipulating people together if she thought they’d hit it off, even just as friends. And once she’d found out she was good at it, she’d thrown herself into the enterprise. Most often, she guessed right, so she hadn’t had any calamities…yet. But he and Michelle? Wow. Way too much to get past. The fact that she was his best friend’s little sister, for one. Kyle would cut off Alex’s hand if Alex touched her. And his more sensitive parts, too. Then, there was the difference in their intellectual abilities—namely, she was brilliant and he wasn’t. Plus, all the travel with his job made relationships difficult.

Nope. As much as he hated to disappoint his mother, she wouldn’t win this one.

“And you know how Mom would like to have grandchildren,” Chase said.

“You’ll have to take care of that. I’m going to be too busy and on the road for the next several years.”

“Are you sure?” Chase said. “NFL players become fathers all the time.”

“Yeah, and they aren’t home for the pregnancy. No thanks.” Not that he didn’t want kids. When you grew up in a family like his you’d want exactly the same life for yourself. Not in high school or college, of course, when all guys valued what they called “their freedom.” But eventually, even a jock matured and developed a need for closeness—someone to come home to and children to carry on your name and traditions.

Trouble was, he pretty much sucked at the closeness part. It made him vulnerable. It seemed every time he opened up to someone, his ego got put through the shredder. He might have humiliated Michelle in the cottage that day, but he’d had the same done to him on numerous occasions until he’d learned to keep control of the situation at all times so no one saw any weakness in him.

“One of us is going to have to give up what Mom calls ‘our lifestyle,’ and settle down with someone,” Chase said. “You’re the older brother, so I nominate you.”

“You’re more stable in your career than I am.” Alex would play for several more years, if injury didn’t stop him. When he did retire, maybe he could adopt some kids on his own rather than just mentor them. That might get Mom off his back.

“What about the supermodel?” Chase asked. “I notice you didn’t bring her home for the celebration.”

“Not likely. We broke up.”

“I’m sorry,” Chase said.

“Don’t be. Story of my life.” Another failed relationship. His fault, just like the others. He couldn’t make himself risk letting a woman close.

“Okay, big brother. If Mom tries her matchmaking, I’ll run interference for you,” Chase said. “But I can see why she would think Michelle’s fair game. Our Mickey has definitely grown up in the last eight years, in very obvious ways.”

Alex glared at his brother. If Chase had noticed Michelle’s amazing curves, he could keep his interest to himself. Alex had warned off other young pups with bad intentions, and he could do it to his brother, too.

Chase laughed. “You should see the look on your face.”

He’d give Chase more than a look if he tried to lure Michelle into his stable of women. Chase might have a bookish career ahead of him in the publishing firm, but he made the rounds of the clubs in San Francisco, and his good looks, fast car, and fine tastes in food and wine made him popular with the ladies. Michelle had been shy in high school and had spent the rest of her time in academia. She still needed Alex’s protection, and she’d get it.

He groaned inwardly. That overprotectiveness was how they’d gotten into this mess.

“Don’t worry.” Chase rose and gave Alex’s shoulder a playful punch. “She only has eyes for you.”

“You’re being silly.”

“Not at all. Heat practically radiated off the BMW when you pulled up the drive.”

“Now you’ve gone beyond silliness to lunacy,” Alex said.

“Have I?” Chase made a great show of glancing around the room. “Nice place for a seduction.”

“Shut up.”

“Only question…who’s going to be the seducer and who the seducee?”

Alex clenched his hands into fists by his side. “I mean it.”

Chase laughed again and ducked out of the cottage. Just in time. If he’d said one more word in that direction, Alex would have had to teach him a lesson.

…

Michelle might have stepped through a time warp when she entered the Staffords’ kitchen. Sure, a few things had changed. Vinyl flooring only lasted so long, and the new surface had a different pattern. But the Staffords had the same table, worn and nicked in places and with enough seating for twice the size of their family. Their hospitality extended to anyone who passed by looking for a good meal or an ear to listen to a tale of woe, and so they needed the space. The aromas went right back to her childhood. The pork roast and macaroni and cheese Emma had promised. Michelle took it all in with a deep breath and couldn’t help but smile.

“God, that smells delicious,” she said.

“Doesn’t it?” Kyle said from his place at the table. “I don’t suppose I could sneak a piece of that pie now, huh?”

Emma turned from the stove and waved a wooden spoon at him. “That’s dessert, young man. You’ll wait.”

Michelle’s smile went inward, warming her on the inside. It felt like she was a teenager again. A time when she only had to escape to this house to find acceptance, even love. For the next several days she could let herself bask in those feelings again. If only she didn’t have to tiptoe around Alex, she could revert to an earlier, more comfortable time…before that encounter in the cottage.

Mr. Stafford—Jim—pulled out a chair for her, and as soon as she took her seat, Emma set a cup of tea in front of her. People often said that husbands and wives came to resemble each other after many years of marriage. That was certainly true of the Staffords, both were tall and slender, their age only indicated by the gray of their short hair and lines of laughter around their eyes. The only difference lay in Jim’s more chiseled features as compared to Emma’s softer ones. Both had the clear blue eyes they’d passed on to their sons.

“Tell us everything,” Emma said. “From the day you left until right now. We want to hear it all.”

Michelle took a sip of her tea. “That’s a lot to cover.”

“We have days,” Jim said, as he took a seat near hers. Emma joined him, and the two of them sat, seemingly waiting for an explanation of eight years of her life.

She glanced at Kyle. “Didn’t you fill them in?”

“On what?” Kyle shrugged. “I don’t know much more than they do.”

She studied her brother. The two of them hardly resembled each other, his red hair and green eyes so different from her brown and brown. Still, he’d been her protector since early childhood, and he’d added Alex shortly after that.

At that moment, Alex’s brother, Chase, showed up at the threshold to the dining room. He was a smaller, less muscular version of Alex and another good guy, although she’d never become as close to him as to his brother. Alex. Always Alex. She’d never managed to get him out of her mind, even after all this time.

Chase went to the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of water, and twisted off the cap. Then he closed the door with his butt and leaned against it. “Good. I’m not too late for the interrogation.”

“Come over here and sit down, son,” Jim said. “We don’t need your cynicism right now.”

“Not a cynic. Just a realist,” Chase said, but he did as his father had asked and took a seat at the end of the table. “You’re going to pump Mickey for information. She needs someone on her side.”

Michelle lifted her cup to her mouth, mostly to hide her smile. Chase had always served as the family’s gadfly. That hadn’t changed, either.

“We haven’t seen Michelle for years. It’s normal to ask what she’s been up to,” Emma said. “A few calls isn’t enough. We need details.”

“Let’s see…I got my bachelor’s and then went on to graduate school,” she said. “That turned out okay, so I did a post-doc at Hawthorn, just outside of Boston. Then they hired me as a regular part of the research staff.”

“They must have been impressed,” Jim said.

“I hope so.” And she might as well add her latest news. She hadn’t mentioned it to the staff at Hawthorn except for Jeff, who’d had to cover for her at the lab. And she hadn’t told anyone else out of superstition that if she said the words aloud the position of her dreams might go up in smoke. She shouldn’t be so superstitious. She was a scientist, after all. Sharing with the Staffords wouldn’t jinx her.

“I’m up for a faculty job at Cardmouth University,” she said.

Jim whistled between his teeth. “One of the best schools in the country.”

“So you’re going to be a prof, huh?” Alex asked from the entry to the rear hallway.

At the sound of his voice, her head snapped up. She’d heard it often enough in her dreams, the real thing couldn’t help but rattle her.

“I-I don’t know,” she fairly stammered. “The competition’s fierce.”

“Even for a woman whose work might produce a new and better treatment for Parkinson’s?” Alex asked.

Her jaw dropped at that remark. He knew what her research was about?

He gazed at her evenly, almost daring her to make an issue of that fact. Her heart raced, more than his mere presence could explain. Though she discussed her work with her colleagues every day and wrote papers for the outside world to read, that this man had made himself familiar with this part of her life felt intimate.

And sure enough, the other four now looked at her as if she was someone great who’d been dropped in their midst.

“Is that true?” Jim asked.

“We’re nowhere near anything like a cure…that is, not even near a drug…” Now she really was stammering, and her cheeks had heated. “It might turn out to be nothing at all.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute.” Emma reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “If you’re working on it, it’ll be great.”

“Absolutely,” Alex said, his gaze boring into hers.