Unfinished Business

it,” he snapped at Kong as the dog began to bark in short, happy yips. He was out of breath, Brady thought as he puffed toward the foul line. Out of shape. And—as the ball nipped the rim and bounced off—out of luck.
    He pivoted, grabbed the rebound, and stopped dead in his tracks.
    There she was, wearing those damn skimpy shorts, an excuse for a blouse that skimmed just under her breasts, carrying a bottle of grape soda and sporting a bratty smile on her face.
    He wiped the sweat out of his eyes. The heat, his mood—and the fact that he hadn’t slept in two days—might be enough to bring on a hallucination. But he didn’t like it. Not a bit.
    “Hi, Brady.” Though her heart was jolting against her ribs, she schooled her voice. She wanted it cool and low and just a little snotty. “You look awful hot.” With her eyes on his, Vanessa took a long sip from the bottle, ran her tongue over her upper lip and sauntered the rest of the way to him. “Want a sip?”
    He had to be going crazy. He wasn’t eighteen anymore. But he could smell her. That floaty, flirty scent. He could feel the hard rubber of the ball in his bare hands, and the sweat dripping down his bare chest and back. As he watched, she leaned over to pet the dog. Still bent, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sent him one of those taunting sidelong smiles.
    “Nice dog.”

    “What the hell are you doing?”
    “I was taking a walk.” She straightened, then tipped the bottle to her lips again, draining it before she tossed the empty container into the nearby trash bin. “Your hook shot needs work.” Her mouth moved into a pout. “Aren’t you going to grab me?”
    “No.” If he did, he wasn’t sure if he would kiss her or strangle her.
    “Oh.” She felt the confidence that had built up all during the flight, all during the interminable drive home, dry up. “Does that mean you don’t want me?”
    “Damn you, Vanessa.”
    Battling tears, she turned away. This wasn’t the time for tears. Or for pride. Her little ploy to appeal to his sentiment had been an obvious mistake. “You have every right to be angry.”
    “Angry?” He heaved the ball away. Delighted, the dog raced after it. “That doesn’t begin to describe what I’m feeling. What kind of game are you playing?”
    “It’s not a game.” Eyes brilliant, she turned back to him. “It’s never been a game. I love you, Brady.”
    He didn’t know if her words slashed his heart or healed it. “You took your damn time telling me.”
    “I took what I had to take. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Any moment now, her breath would begin to hitch, mortifying her. “If you decide you want to talk to me, I’ll be at home.”
    He grabbed her arm. “Don’t you walk away from me. Don’t you walk away from me ever again.”
    “I don’t want to fight with you.”
    “Tough. You come back here, stir me up. You expect me to let things go on as they have been. To put aside what I want, what I need. To watch you leave time and time again, with never a promise, never a future. I won’t do it. It’s all or nothing, Van, starting now.”
    “You listen to me.”
    “The hell with you.” He grabbed her then, but there was no fumbling in this kiss. It was hot and hungry. There was as much pain as pleasure here. Just as he wanted there to be.
    She struggled, outraged that he would use force. But his muscles were like iron, sleeked with the sweat that heat and exercise had brought to his skin. The violence that flamed inside him was more potent than any she had known before, the need that vibrated from him more furious.
    She was breathless when she finally tore away. And would have struck him if she hadn’t seen the dark misery in his eyes.
    “Go away, Van,” he said tightly. “Leave me alone.”
    “Brady.”
    “Go away.” He rounded on her again, the violence still darkening his eyes. “I haven’t changed that much.”
    “And neither have I.” She planted her feet. “If you’ve finished playing the macho idiot, I want you to listen to me.”
    “Fine. I’m going to move to the shade.” He turned away from her, snatching up a towel from the court and rubbing it over his head as he walked onto the grass.
    She stormed off after him. “You’re just as impossible as you ever were.”
    After a quick, insolent look, he dropped down under the shade of an oak. To distract the dog, he picked up a handy stick and heaved it. “So?”
    “So I wonder how the hell I ever fell in