Unfinished Business

counter and blocked her way. There was rain on his hair now, and his eyes were very clear. “You didn’t sleep well.”
    “I’d say that makes two of us.”

    He took a casual sip of his coffee as he completed a thorough study of her face. The fatigue he saw was due to more than one restless night. “I want you to do something for me.”
    “If I can.”
    “Go home, pull the covers over your head, and tune out until noon.”
    Her lips curved. “I might just do that.”
    “If those shadows under your eyes aren’t gone in forty-eight hours, I’m going to sic my father on you.”
    “Big talk.”
    “Yeah.” He set the mug aside and then, leaning his other hand on the counter, effectively caged her. “I seem to remember a comment last night about no action.”
    Since she couldn’t back up, she held her ground. “I was trying to make you mad.”
    “You did.” He leaned closer until their thighs met.
    “Brady, I don’t have the time or patience for this. I have to go.”
    “Okay. Kiss me goodbye.”
    Her chin tilted. “I don’t want to.”
    “Sure you do.” His mouth whispered over hers before she could jerk her head back. “You’re just afraid to.”
    “I’ve never been afraid of you.”
    “No.” He smiled an infuriating smile. “But you’ve learned to be afraid of yourself.”
    “That’s ridiculous.”
    “Prove it.”
    Seething, she leaned forward, intent on giving him a brief, soulless kiss. But her heart was in her throat almost instantly. He used no pressure, only soft, soft persuasion. His lips were warm and mobile against hers, his tongue cleverly tracing the shape of her mouth before dipping inside to tease and tempt.

    On a breathless murmur, she took her hands up and over his naked chest to his shoulders. His skin was damp and cool.
    He nipped gently at her lips, drowning in the taste of her. Using all his control, he kept his tensed hands on the counter. He knew that if he touched her now, even once, he wouldn’t stop.
    She would come to him. He had promised himself that as he’d sweated through the night. She would come to him, and not because of a memory, not because of grief. Because of need.
    Slowly, while he still had some control, he lifted his head and backed away. “I want to see you tonight, Van.”
    “I don’t know.” She put a hand to her spinning head.
    “Then you think about it.” He picked up his mug again, surprised the handle didn’t shatter in his grip. “You can call me when you make up your mind.”
    Her confusion died away, to be replaced by anger. “I’m not playing games.”
    “Then what the hell are you doing?”
    “I’m just trying to survive.” She snatched up her purse and ran out into the rain.

Chapter 5
    B ed sounded like a wonderful idea, Vanessa decided as she pulled up in front of the house. Maybe if she drew down the shades, put the music on low and willed herself to relax, she would find the sleep she had lost the night before. When she felt more rested, she might have a clearer idea of what to say to her mother.
    She wondered if a few hours’ sleep would help her resolve her feelings about Brady.
    It was worth a shot.
    She stepped out of the car and rounded the hood to the sidewalk. When she heard her name called, she turned. Mrs. Driscoll was lumbering toward her, clutching her purse and a stack of mail. A huge, wood-handled black umbrella was tight in her fist. Vanessa’s smile came naturally as she moved forward to greet her.
    “Mrs. Driscoll. It’s good to see you again.”

    Only a little winded, Mrs. Driscoll peered out of sharp little eyes. “Heard you were back. Too skinny.”
    With a laugh, Vanessa bent to kiss her leathery cheek. As always, her former teacher smelled of lavender sachet. “You look wonderful.”
    “Take care of yourself.” She sniffed. “That snippy Brady tells me I need a cane. He thinks he’s a doctor. Hold on to this.” Bossy by nature, she shoved the umbrella into Vanessa’s hand. She opened her purse to stuff her mail inside, stubbornly keeping her balance. The rain made her bones ache all the more, but she had always loved to walk in it. “It’s about time you came home. You staying?”
    “Well, I haven’t—”
    “About time you gave your mother some attention,” she interrupted, leaving Vanessa with nothing to say. “I heard you playing when I walked to the bank yesterday, but I couldn’t stop.”
    Vanessa struggled with the heavy umbrella, and with her manners. “Would you