Unfinished Business

strictly for old times’ sake. Or when he’d seen a woman tilt her head to the side and smile in a way similar to the way Van had smiled.
    But when he had remembered, they’d been memories of childhood. Those were the sweetest and most poignant. They had been little more than children, rushing toward adulthood with a reckless and terrifying speed. But what had happened between them had remained beautifully innocent. Long, slow kisses in the shadows, passionate promises, a few forbidden caresses.
    Thinking of them now, of her, shouldn’t make him ache. And yet he rubbed a hand over his heart.
    It had seemed too intense at the time, because they had faced such total opposition from her father. The more Julius Sexton had railed against their blossoming relationship, the closer they had become. That was the way of youth, Brady thought now. And he had played the angry young man to perfection, he remembered with a smirk. Defying her father, giving his own a lifetime of headaches. Making threats and promises as only an eighteen-year-old could.
    If the road had run smoothly, they would probably have forgotten each other within weeks.
    Liar, he thought with a laugh. He had never been so in love as he had been that year with Vanessa. That heady, frantic year, when he had turned eighteen and anything and everything had seemed possible.
    They had never made love. He had bitterly regretted that after she had been swept out of his life. Now, with the gift of hindsight, he realized that it had been for the best. If they had been lovers, how much more difficult it would be for them to be friends as adults.
    That was what he wanted, all he wanted, he assured himself. He had no intention of breaking his heart over her a second time.
    Maybe for a moment, when he had first seen her at the piano, his breath had backed up in his lungs and his pulse had scrambled. That was a natural enough reaction. She was a beautiful woman, and she had once been his. And if he had felt a yearning the night before, as they had sat on the glider in the growing dusk, well, he was human. But he wasn’t stupid.
    Vanessa Sexton wasn’t his girl anymore. And he didn’t want her for his woman.
    “Dr. Tucker.” One of the nurses poked a head in the door. “Your next patient is here.”
    “Be right there.”

    “Oh, and your father said to stop by before you leave for the day.”
    “Thanks.” Brady headed for examining room 2, wondering if Vanessa would be sitting out on the glider that evening.
     
    Vanessa knocked on the door of the Tucker house and waited. She’d always liked the Main Street feeling of the home, with its painted porch and its window boxes. There were geraniums in them now, already blooming hardily. The screens were in the open windows. As a girl, she had often seen Brady and his father removing the storms and putting in the screens—a sure sign that winter was over.
    There were two rockers sitting on the porch. She knew Dr. Tucker would often sit there on a summer evening. People strolling by would stop to pass the time or to relay a list of symptoms and complaints.
    And every year, over the Memorial Day weekend, the Tuckers would throw a backyard barbecue. Everyone in town came by to eat hamburgers and potato salad, to sit under the shade of the big walnut tree, to play croquet.
    He was a generous man, Dr. Tucker, Vanessa remembered. With his time, with his skill. She could still remember his laugh, full and rich, and how gentle his hands were during an examination.
    But what could she say to him now? This man who had been such a larger-than-life figure during her childhood? This man who had once comforted her when she’d wept over her parents’ crumbling marriage? This man who was now involved with her mother?
    He opened the door himself, and stood there studying her. He was tall, as she remembered. Like Brady, he had a wiry, athletic build. Though his dark hair had turned a steely gray, he looked no older to her. There were lines fanning out around his dark blue eyes. They deepened as he smiled.
    Unsure of herself, she started to offer him a hand. Before she could speak, she was caught up in a crushing bear hug. He smelled of Old Spice and peppermint, she thought, and nearly wept. Even that hadn’t changed.
    “Little Vanessa.” His powerful voice rolled over her as he squeezed. “It’s good to have you home.”
    “It’s good to be home.” Held against him, she believed it. “I’ve missed you.” It came with a