Wife and Mother Wanted (6 page)

There’s no maybe about it. Daisy
is
right. You need something in your life, someone to heal the scars, to make you live again
.

Until now he’d thought he had that someone. Molly was all he needed. But what if he needed more?

What if he needed Carissa in his life too?

He had to make up for his Neanderthal behaviour, and he silently vowed to show her just how grown-up he could be.

C
ARISSA
flipped the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’ and reached for the lock as a shadow darkened the door.

‘Well, well, well. If it isn’t Prince Charming,’ she muttered, switching the lock and glaring at Brody through the glass.

He rattled the doorknob and looked at her in surprise. ‘Hey, aren’t you going to let me in?’

‘No.’

She folded her arms and gave him her best
don’t mess with me
look, while trying not to notice how incredible he looked in a navy polo shirt and khaki shorts.

Face it, girl. You’d think he looked good in anything
.

What was she thinking? She was mad at this guy—madder than she’d ever been with anyone. All she’d done was extend the hand of friendship to both him and his gorgeous little girl, and he’d treated her badly. She still hadn’t forgiven him for his accusation that she was trying to buy Molly’s affection, and when he’d come knocking on her door after the party yesterday she’d pretended to be asleep.

If he wanted to apologise she wouldn’t make it easy for him. She was done playing Miss Nice.

‘You should let me in. I come bearing gifts.’

Her heart kicked at his sexy smile, but she shook her head anyway. ‘No.’

‘It’s food.’

‘No.’

‘Chocolate and banana croissants. Your favourite,’ he tempted.

Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled, but she held firm. ‘No.’

He held up the bag from Michel’s Patisserie and swung it from side to side, as if trying to hypnotise her. ‘Call it a peace offering.’

Thankful that the glass shielded her from the tantalising aromas she knew would be creeping out of the bag, she took a step back and shook her head. ‘You’ll have to do a lot better than that.’

‘I’ve got my tool belt in the car. How about I tackle all those odd jobs you need done around here?’

She thought about the loose door hinges, the creaky shutters, the faulty tap washers and the leaky pipe in the back room handbasin—and the croissants in the bag—and flicked the lock.

Okay, so the guy didn’t play fair. What was a girl supposed to do?

She’d always had a thing for tradesmen, finding the whole big, brawny, overall-wearing, tool-belt-slinging, capable man a major turn-on. Combine that little fantasy with the thought of Brody Elliott in a tool belt and, well…she was a goner.

Opening the door, she waved him in. ‘You’ve said the magic word.’

‘But I didn’t say open sesame?’

‘No, you went one better. The words “tool belt” will get you in every time.’

‘Oh, really?’ He leaned in the doorway, a knowing smirk on his handsome face, and for one crazy moment she forgot how mad she was supposed to be with him and stifled the urge to haul him into her shop by his lapels, lock the door and create a little magic of her own.

Fighting a rising blush and losing, she swivelled around and headed for the back. ‘I’m starving. Bring your peace offering out here and we’ll have coffee before you get started.’

‘Long day?’ He followed her into the cramped back room, and she suddenly wondered at the wisdom of her decision to invite him in.

Dusk had fallen, they were alone in a confined space, and her imagination had taken flight the minute he’d mentioned his tools.

Think anger. Think fury. Think how much you wanted to thump him yesterday
.

‘Uh-huh.’ Busying herself with the cups, she didn’t sense him sneaking up on her till it was too late.

‘You look tense,’ he said, reaching around her to place the bag of croissants on the tray she’d arranged, effectively trapping her between his body and the bench.

Heat radiated from him, warming the bare skin on her back. Of all the days she could have chosen she’d had to wear a halter top today…

She took a steadying breath, hoping to get her pulse under control before she turned to face him. Instead, the heady combination of warm chocolate, cinnamon and
pure Brody assaulted her senses, leaving her even more breathless.

And confused. One minute he was pushing her away, using every weapon in his nasty verbal arsenal, the next he was doing his nice-guy act. The man was driving her mad.

‘Here, let me,’ he said, pouring boiling water into two mugs and arranging the croissants on a plate.

He was right. She was tense. And getting tenser by the minute with him standing so darn close.

‘Thanks,’ she said, bustling around like a busy bee and giving him no option but to back off or bump into her. ‘Sugar?’

‘No thanks. I’m sweet enough.’

‘That’s debatable.’ She handed him a mug, taking care to avoid brushing his fingers.

Tahnee was right. She did have a teensy, weensy crush on this guy, bad attitude and all, and the funny thing was she could handle him being grumpy but his nice side scared the daylights out of her.

Sipping her coffee, she tried to ascertain his mood by staring at him over the rim of her mug. Their gazes locked across the tiny room and she expected him to look away, to mumble something about getting to work.

He didn’t, and the moment stretched on for ever, a loaded silence fraught with electricity that zapped between them even at this distance.

‘I guess I deserved that.’

‘Yep, you sure did.’ She picked up a croissant, took a bite and sighed with pleasure. ‘Mmm…if this is your way of apologising for acting like a jerk yesterday, it’s a start.’

She expected him to bristle, to glower, to frown.
Instead he managed a rueful chuckle, the sound of his deep laughter warming her better than the Brazilian coffee she was addicted to.

‘Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying. I thought it was pretty grown-up of me to find out your weakness for croissants, and surely with my expertise as a handyman you can wipe the slate clean?’

‘I haven’t seen how you wield your tools yet.’ Oops! The words had just popped out. Darn it, now he’d think she was flirting with him.

He grinned—a wicked grin that spoke volumes.

‘Ah, but you will. And I guarantee you’ll be impressed.’

‘We’ll see.’ She kept her answer deliberately evasive, deliberately cool. No use advertising the fact she was a total schmuck and had a crush on the grizzly from next door. ‘How did Molly pull up after the party?’

Once again he smiled, and if she’d been counting them, she’d have been sure he’d just created a personal best. She’d never seen him this relaxed, and if Brooding Brody captured her attention, Mellow Brody knocked her for a six.

‘She had a ball. I’m happy she’s made friends in town so quickly, and it looks like Daisy is making a big effort to get to know her.’ His smile faded and he glanced away, not quite meeting her eyes. ‘Speaking of the party, I really owe you an apology. I was way out of line with that comment about you buying Molly’s affection. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to sharing her.’

‘You were jealous?’ she asked, wondering what had gotten into the guy. First a record number of smiles, now a genuine apology?

The men she’d had the misfortune to know had never
apologised for anything—especially her adoptive father, who would rather have eaten dirt than say sorry.

‘Yeah, pretty lame, huh? You’ve been a great influence on her, and don’t think I’m not grateful, but it’s tough when I’ve done it on my own for so long and then you waltz in and click with Molly in a second.’

What could she say to that? Brody had actually said more than two words to her—two
nice
words, that was—and he’d been honest to boot!

‘Molly’s a great kid; anyone would take to her. Apology accepted. Now, how about getting to work? I need to be home by seven.’ She drained her coffee and rinsed the mug, hoping her brisk response would discourage him from delving into why her mood had suddenly soured.

Memories did that to her every time, no matter how positive she tried to be. Losing her parents had been bad enough, being separated from her sisters another devastating blow. And being adopted by the Lovells had capped off the horror stakes.

Sensing her withdrawal, he cast a perplexed look her way. ‘Hot date?’

‘Yes, something like that.’

‘I’ll be out of your way as soon as I can. Just show me what needs to be done.’ His smile had vanished and the residual tiny frown had reappeared between his eyebrows.

‘I’m meeting my sister for dinner,’ she said, wondering what had prompted her to explain. She didn’t owe him anything, and after the way he’d been treating her till today she had every right to be terse.

Tired of mixed messages, tired of tiptoeing on eggshells around this guy, and tired of her ridiculous crush,
she donned her Caring Carissa cap once again, the one that everyone said fitted her so well, and smiled.

‘Look, I really appreciate you doing this. Sorry for being grumpy. I’m just tired.’

His frown eased and he crossed the room in three strides, laying his mug down on the sink. ‘Anything I can do?’

Yes, stop being so nice. You’re confusing me
.

‘How about starting with the leaky tap washers in here?’

‘Okay.’

She’d expected him to swivel on his heel, head out to the car and grab his tools. Instead, he reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear, the same way she’d seen him do with Molly, and suddenly tears filled her eyes.

‘You’re a good woman, Carissa Lewis. I’d like us to be friends.’

She would have preferred ‘stunning’, ‘attractive’ or even ‘gorgeous’. However, she’d settle for ‘good’. It was a start—the first real overture at friendship he’d made. And wasn’t that what she wanted? For them to be friends? For her to be a part of Molly’s life?

Lost in the dark intensity of his gaze, she knew that for now being friends was all that Brody could offer her, and it was a huge step forward for him.

As for her stupid crush, and her perception that latent heat simmered below the surface of their tenuous relationship, she would deal with it. There was no use scaring the guy off when he’d finally extended an olive branch. Besides, it was no big deal. She had crushes on lots of good-looking guys. That didn’t mean she wanted a relationship with any of them.

Not that her favourite Hollywood hunks would look twice at her anyway!

‘Friends,’ she said softly, as if trying the word on for size and enjoying the fit.

‘Friends.’ Brody’s gaze dropped to her lips and for one crazy moment she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he smiled and headed out the door.

B
RODY
gritted his teeth and smiled at Carissa, holding the opposite end of the skipping rope which Molly happily jumped over as they turned it.

Being friends was a hell of a lot harder than he’d anticipated. Not that it was Carissa’s fault. She made it so easy to like her, and he enjoyed her company as much as Molly did. No, that wasn’t the problem.

He’d never had female friends before. In fact, he’d been starved for female company for a long time. After his mum had died, his dad had turned into a recluse, pining away for the one true love of his life. He hadn’t trusted women after that, even if he’d turned into a total schmuck around Jackie—long enough to let his guard down.

He’d always been a man’s man, valuing the straight-talking company of the boys over an occasional beer and the camaraderie of like-minded guys who’d understood the drive behind being a cop. Jackie had never understood, and it had been one of the many things they’d argued about—yet another wedge that had driven them apart.

If it hadn’t been for Molly, the one shining light in
that relationship, he wondered if he would have eventually left Jackie—and realized he probably would.

‘Faster, Daddy. Faster, Carissa!’ Molly said, waving her arms up and down, tucking her legs higher with each jump.

‘Sure thing, munchkin,’ he said, winking at Carissa, who grinned back and turned the rope in perfect sync with him.

No, Carissa wasn’t the problem.

He was. As the protective wall around his heart crumbled, so did his common sense. In opening his heart to new possibilities he’d expected to feel nervous, to feel gauche. What he hadn’t counted on was this…this…
thing
he felt for Carissa. The harder he tried to convince himself she was just friend material, the more he wanted her. He must be going crazy!

‘Daddy! You’re not doing it right. Look at Carissa.’

With pleasure, he thought, taking in her flushed face, mussed blonde curls and the full lips smirking at him over Molly’s head.

Damn, those lips…He’d been so close to losing the plot and kissing her in the back room of her shop a few weeks ago, and he had been wondering about it ever since. What her lips would feel like, how they would taste beneath his…

Maybe letting the wall around his heart crumble wasn’t such a good idea after all? Perhaps it was time to start shoving a few bricks back in before he lost it completely?

‘Molly has a point, Brody. You need to swing more.’

Okay. Was that a mischievous glint in her beautiful blue eyes, or was his overactive imagination taking liberties
again? Did his nicer-than-nice neighbour even know the meaning of the word
swing
in its basest sense?

‘Perhaps you should show me?’ he parried back, sending her a cocky smile designed to tease and see exactly what she was made of.

Though they’d settled into an easygoing friendship, most of their time was spent with Molly, doing stuff like this. He’d been careful to avoid one-on-one contact since the almost-kiss at her shop, needing to take things slow, to evaluate the newly awakened feelings she stirred up within him.

There was no use ploughing straight into something when he had no idea what that
something
was.

The rope’s tempo picked up from Carissa’s end, forcing him to match it, much to the squealing delight of his daughter.

‘Let me get this straight, Brody. You want me to show you how to swing?’ Her smirk widened into a knowing grin, a cheeky sparkle in her eyes.

The little minx was flirting with him. No two ways about it.

‘You got it in one. Think you’re up for it?’

‘I’m up for anything,’ she said, sending him a sizzling look that could have scorched the rope to cinders if it had got caught in the crossfire.

‘I’ll remind you of that later,’ he said, with a pointed look at Molly, who had stopped jumping and was listening to their banter with avid interest.

His daughter was six going on twenty, and he didn’t want her picking up on the vibes between him and Carissa. She already loved their neighbour and if she sensed that her father had an interest too…No, he wouldn’t go there.

His little girl was of an age where she paired off everything from her Barbies to her teddy bears, and if she turned her attention to him and Carissa…Uh-uh, playing make-believe was one thing; giving hope to his precious daughter was another.

‘Daddy, look. Aunt Daisy is here.’

Great—just what he needed. The interfering old biddy to find him engaged in a family-like activity with Carissa. She already had them halfway up the aisle in her dotty mind, if her none-too-subtle hint at Molly’s party had been any indication.

‘Aunt Daisy, come and play with us. Daddy and Carissa are real good at it.’

‘Out of the mouths of babes,’ Daisy murmured, raising an eyebrow as she stared at him over her spectacles.

To his annoyance, heat crept into his cheeks, as if she’d caught them in a compromising situation rather than playing skipping with Molly.

‘What brings you by, Daisy?’ Whatever it was, he hoped it wouldn’t take long, so she could hop back in her car and take her prying eyes with her.

Waving at Carissa, Daisy bent down to Molly’s height with surprising agility for a woman her age. ‘Actually, I need Molly’s help. How would you like to come to my house and help me bake choc-chip cookies? I need to make several dozen for the church fete this weekend, so I need an official cookie apprentice on hand.’

Molly’s eyes lit up as her gaze swung to his. ‘Can I, Dad? I love making cookies almost as much as I love skipping.’

Brody scanned Daisy’s face, looking for an ulterior
motive. Was this an attempt at matchmaking on the old woman’s part? Or was she genuinely interested in indulging Molly? Either way, it would leave him alone with Carissa, and maybe it was time to knock down a few more of those bricks?

‘I can vouch for Molly’s cookie-making skills,’ Carissa chimed in. ‘She’s a real champion at it. Especially licking the spoon.’ Carissa winked at Molly, who promptly broke into giggles.

Torn between wanting to sweep Molly into his arms for protection against these two women who seemed to be ganging up on him, and spending some adult time with Carissa and seeing exactly how far she was willing to take their flirting, he hid behind his usual taciturn self when confronted by indecision.

‘Fine,’ he bit out. ‘Just don’t eat too much, Molly. You’ll spoil your dinner.’

Daisy’s smile screamed victory, reinforcing his earlier suspicion that he’d been had. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve already whipped up Molly’s favourite, so she can stay for dinner too.’

Before he could open his mouth to refuse, Molly said, ‘Spaghetti? Really? I love spaghetti. But not as much as cookies,’ she added as an afterthought, obviously fearing she’d lose out on the cookies.

Reluctant to put a dampener on Molly’s enthusiasm, and grateful that his daughter had blossomed under the tutelage of her great-aunt, he nodded. ‘Okay, you can stay for dinner too. I’ll pick you up at eight.’

‘Thanks, Daddy.’

He bent down so Molly could plant one of her trademark sloppy kisses on his cheek and cuddled her close,
knowing he wouldn’t have this luxury for ever. All too soon his little girl would grow up, and she’d deem it ‘un-cool’ to cuddle her father. God forbid.

‘Be good, munchkin.’

She giggled into his shoulder. ‘I’m always good, Daddy.’

‘Grrr,’ he growled, picking her up and swinging her around while she squealed with laughter. Setting her back on the ground, he tapped her lightly on the nose and said, ‘See you later.’

‘I can bring Molly home if you’d like,’ Daisy volunteered, taking hold of Molly’s hand and waving at Carissa, who hadn’t said much since the old woman had arrived. ‘It’s no trouble. I’m sure you could use the time to yourselves,’ Daisy continued, her beady gaze shifting between the two of them as if trying to figure out what was going on between them.

Yeah, no doubt about it. She’d said ‘yourselves’, which meant she hoped he’d spend his free time with Carissa. The meddling old busybody…

Well, if Daisy wanted something to stew over, he’d give it to her. It might even keep her off his case for a while…

‘Fine—thanks, Daisy. I could use the time. Especially as Carissa is going to teach me how to swing.’

‘Swing?’ Daisy’s eyebrows shot upwards, almost hidden by her grey fringe, and the corners of her mouth twitched like a rabbit picking up the scent of a juicy carrot.

‘It’s a type of dance,’ Carissa blurted, her cheeks almost matching her scarlet tank top.

‘Is it really?’ Daisy’s smile spoke volumes as she
tugged on Molly’s hand. ‘Come on, Molly. Let’s go bake some cookies.’

He winked at Carissa and she poked her tongue out, her colour deepening as he returned the gesture.

‘Enjoy your
dancing
,’ Daisy called out from the car.

Molly waved through the windscreen. ‘Bye, Dad. Bye, Carissa. Keep playing if you want.’

As the car pulled out of the drive, he crossed the lawn to stand by Carissa as she said, ‘So, do you want to keep playing?’

Carissa knew her cheeks blazed with colour. She could feel the heat seeping from her neck upwards, a shining beacon to her nerves.

So she’d flirted a little? Where was the harm in that? She’d flirted with plenty of men before.

Yeah, all boring yes-men. Safe men—men who didn’t challenge her. Or intrigue her.

And, unfortunately, Brody Elliott did both.

She’d expected him to revert to casual friends mode as soon as Daisy had left with Molly. And she’d been right. Unfortunately.

‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ he said, ignoring her question and casting a longing look in the direction of his house. ‘I’ve got loads to do, and I’m sure you have too.’

She shouldn’t flirt with him. She really shouldn’t. But a little demon had lodged in her brain and wouldn’t let up, prodding her with its loaded pitchfork.

‘Actually, I don’t have much to do. Maybe you do still want to play?’ she asked, leaning against the wrought-iron outdoor table in a provocative pose designed to tease.

‘Uh, no. Thanks,’ he muttered, looking delightfully flustered, and she bit back a grin, enjoying this more than she should.

The guy had loosened up a lot over the last month, and she enjoyed the easy friendship that had developed between them. However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun at his expense. Besides, he looked just too delectable for her not to tease him on this all-round glorious autumn day: ruffled dark hair, chocolate eyes that bored into her soul, and a sexy smile designed to charm the pants off any woman who didn’t know better.

‘Have to wash your hair, huh?’

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘Yeah, something like that.’

His smile faded as he caught on to the speculative gleam in her eyes.

‘You’re running scared,’ she said, taking a step towards him.

‘Scared of what?’ He backed away.

‘This.’ She took another step forward and poked him in the chest, expecting him to make a run for the house at the brief physical contact.

However, he didn’t move a muscle, his dark gaze unreadable, and her pulse accelerated madly as she stood there, lost in his stare.

‘And this.’

She reached up and ran a finger down his cheek, enjoying the rasp of stubble against her fingertip, wondering what it would feel like rubbing over her smooth skin.

Before she had time to think he grabbed her hand and lowered it, regret mingling with something more, something she could almost label desire, in his fathomless eyes.

‘I’m not scared, just wary,’ he said, taking a step back. ‘Ever heard of playing with fire and getting burned? Badly?’

‘Are you referring to me or you?’

He shrugged, the deep crinkle between his brows returning, and she wished for just one minute he’d cast aside his grief and face up to reality. They were two friends having fun—flirting, teasing. It didn’t have to get serious. She didn’t want that. What she did want was for this guy to lighten up. She wanted to bring him out of his shell, to make him laugh for more than half a second, to bring a smile to his face—the one that made her knees shake just a tad.

‘Maybe both of us.’ The crinkle deepened and she thought,
Oh-oh, here comes a stern lecture
, so she pre-empted it.

‘Look, Brody. We’re friends, and sometimes friends have a little fun. You’re locked up in your house most of the time—you don’t socialise, you don’t go out, you don’t do much of anything.’

‘And you think by touching me I’ll change? Is that it?’

He had her there. What could she say? That touching his cheek had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, something to make him react when most of the time he acted as if she wasn’t around except as a playmate for Molly?

‘Just forget it,’ she muttered, thrusting her hands into her jeans pockets like a child who’d been told to pick up her bat and ball and go home.

‘I know what you’re trying to do,’ he said, fixing her with that all-seeing stare—the one that made her want to run and hide, the one that seemed to peer into her soul and recognise her darkest secrets. ‘And, for what it’s
worth, thanks. You’re a good friend, but I’m just not the type of guy to step out of his comfort zone, and right now I’m comfortable. I have Molly, and that’s more than any man could wish for in a lifetime.’

Carissa’s breath caught and she swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. When this guy opened up, he didn’t do it by halves. His honesty left her wanting to touch him more than ever, wanting to cradle him in her arms and never let go. He was hurting, that much was obvious, and coaxing him out of his safe cocoon could surely only benefit him.

‘I understand,’ she said, hoping her voice wouldn’t waver, and grateful when it didn’t. ‘Sorry if I came on a bit strong.’

‘You didn’t. It’s just been a while since I’ve done the whole flirting thing. Guess I’m lousy at it.’

Awww…this softer Brody was too much!

‘How about we have coffee and the brownies that I baked earlier? And I promise not to flirt too much. Deal?’

He smiled, but the wary expression hadn’t left his eyes, as if he half expected her to jump him. Sheesh! And she’d thought
she
didn’t get out much.