Brother Of The Groom (Harlequin Treasury 1990's) Read online

  “Selling out never is,” he replied, his voice dry and direct as he sat down beside her again. “Look, Dad and I went back and forth about this sale. He wanted to hold on to the company. But, in the end the decision was mine to make. And I made it. End of story.”

  The shadow of regret in his eyes hinted that there was more to the story. Holly was surprised. Regret was an emotion she would not have associated with Jordan Mason. Guilt was another. She sensed he was feeling that, too—particularly in regard to his father. For the first time, Holly realized there might be one or two chinks of vulnerability in that well-fortified persona of his.

  “Well, Jordan, what are your plans?” she asked, changing the subject. “Perhaps some travel now that you’re a free man, so to speak?”

  “I considered it. But I don’t want to stray too far until Dad’s condition has been stable for a while. The next few weeks of recovery are crucial,” he explained. “And to be honest, endless months of travel doesn’t hold that much appeal. I need-I want to get back to work, Holly.”

  She should have known he’d be itching to get back in the saddle. Aimlessness was not in Jordan’s nature. “What do you propose to do?”

  He tossed back his head and laughed. “That is the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Suddenly, I have all the free time in the world, and more money than I know what to do with.”

  A cutting irony laced his words, and Holly couldn’t understand why. Most men would give anything to be in his position.

  “You must have some ideas,” she offered gently.

  “A few. And I’ve received plenty of suggestions from an eager army of potential partners.” He reached for the wine bottle. “More for you?”

  Shaking her head, she watched Jordan refill his glass.

  “I’ve looked into a few of the more interesting prospects, but nothing’s grabbed me yet. Maybe CompWare is just too hard an act to follow.”

  She studied his profile out of the corner of her eye. The clean angle of his jaw, the firm set of his chin, exuded a strength that belied the possibility that Jordan was at loose ends. He was even more attractive than she’d remembered. The callow good looks of his youth had deepened into something infinitely more appealing. He was confident, yet approachable. At ease with himself and sexy. Jordan still had it all—and then some. Tall, dark, handsome—and rich—the kind of man women flocked to. They certainly used to! Holly recalled wryly.

  As she focused on his dark-blue gaze, however, Holly sensed a certain despair—a despair she was sure Jordan kept buried inside. He was not the kind of man to wear his heart on his sleeve. But this day had been much too full of surprises and too ripe with evocative memories to leave either of them untouched. It was natural for all kinds of emotions to rise to the surface. Holly felt as if she’d been through the wringer herself.

  But what now?

  Jordan’s uncharacteristic moodiness, combined with his concern for Lawrence’s recovery, made Holly wary. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to blurt out the truth about Stephanie. They were both on edge. And she’d wager he was as exhausted as she was. No, she decided, neither one of them was in shape tonight to deal with the aftershocks of this particular announcement.

  Holly felt no relief at postponing the truth. The fact that Scott was Stephanie’s father had to come out. It was time. Still, it seemed more prudent to wait until they both had a chance to rest from this roller coaster of a day. But in the morning she would, at last, tell Jordan everything.

  Jordan cursed as he contorted his body in yet another attempt to find a comfortable position on the thin mat tress. Sofa beds had to be the most wretched contraptions to befall a good night’s sleep. Or any sleep at all. For most of the night he’d been staring into the dark, mulling over yesterday’s turn of events and the changes in Holly. Talk about unexpected...

  Jordan had had his fill of tossing and turning. He climbed out of the low foldout bed and lifted the blinds to look outside. The sun was rising in the gray sky. Restless to get out of the small, closed den, Jordan decided to take a walk. After showering quickly, he brushed his teeth in front of the bathroom mirror with the extra toothbrush Holly had given him. The sight of his shadowy morning beard reminded him of the spare shave kit stashed in the trunk of his car.

  The house was still as he passed through on his way out to his car. Outside, the beginning of a knockout spring day enveloped him in its early warmth. Jordan leaned against the Mercedes, gazing at the flowers and the grass and the trees, all fresh and glistening after last night’s rain. Yet he couldn’t imagine waking up to this every morning—his glassed-in high-rise view of busy Boston Harbor suited him just fine.

  Giving in to impulse, Jordan got into the car, rolled down the windows and slid open the moon roof. Driving was a passion of his. And this unusual morning was calling him to take to the country roads. He figured he’d drive to the closed-off bridge at Golden Creek to check out the extent of the damage. He’d be back before Holly even noticed he was gone.

  By the time Jordan reached the bridge, the fallen trees had already been removed and the road was clear. A solitary worker was tossing debris into the back of a town pickup truck. Jordan drove up to him and expressed surprise that the bridge had already been cleared.

  “We get to work real early around here,” the man said, his gaze roaming over Jordan’s car. “Trees hit the road, not the bridge. Didn’t take us long to move ’em out. I’m just cleaning up a bit. Rest of the crew’s headed for the lake. Supposed to be a mess over there.”

  “So the bridge is safe?”

  “Sure. Go right on ahead.”

  Jordan checked his watch. “Is there any place I can get coffee?” He wanted a cup badly.

  “General store opens at seven. Always got a pot brewing there,” the worker said, waving Jordan on.

  At the store, Jordan located the self-serve coffee set up and poured himself a large cup. As he stirred in a packet of sugar, the discussion among the four old men hanging out at the front counter became louder. The mention of Gabe Sawyer caught his attention. After listening for a moment, Jordan realized they were talking about Holly’s apple packing plant.

  “It’s falling apart. They should tear the durn thing down.”

  “That’s good, valuable land it’s built on. What do ya think will happen to it?”

  “Ah, people from the city are always looking to move out here. Somebody will build a big house on the property just so they can say they live in the country.”

  “Don’t be a fool. Someone will come along and build a whole slew of houses on that land. Mark my words.”

  The old men continued arguing, ignoring Jordan as he passed between them to pay at the counter. He was amazed to hear them debating the details Gabe Sawyer had mentioned last night at Holly’s. News sure traveled like wildfire around this town.

  Jordan realized this building seemed to inspire a lot of excitement and interest, not only in the men at the store, but in Holly, too. She’d been practically starry-eyed when Sawyer talked about it at the dinner table last night. As he drove up the hill to the gas station, Jordan decided he wanted to see the building. He asked for directions after filling up his tank. Fortunately, Edgar, the befuddled attendant from yesterday, wasn’t on duty. Today’s directions were as clear as a bell.

  The apple packing plant was less than half a mile from the center of town. The flat-roofed, one-story building looked as if it had been abandoned years ago. It stood alone and desolate, half-hidden by overgrown bushes and thigh-high grass. Jordan got out of his car and took a walk around. The cement block building had been neglected too long. Its condition was dismal. The site had only two things going for it as far as he was concerned—its proximity to the town center and a sizable parking lot. He shook his head when he thought of Holly’s hopes for the place.

  When Jordan got back into his car, the time glowing on the dashboard clock came as a jolt. Holly was probably wondering what had happened to him. He automatically reached for his
cellular phone. Only he didn’t know Holly’s phone number.

  Jordan sped back to the house. When he arrived, he saw that Holly’s compact car had been replaced in the driveway by Gracie’s big old sedan. “Great,” he muttered, grabbing the shave kit that had lured him out to the car in the first place.

  “Well, there you are,” Gracie growled when she opened the front door. “We thought you had left.”

  “Mommy was mad,” Stephanie chimed in as she ran up behind Gracie.

  “I went for a drive and lost track of the time,” he said, trying to explain to the two dour faces. “Holly’s left already?”

  “She opens the shop early on Saturdays,” Gracie announced. “It’s her busiest day.”

  “Cuz people get paid on Friday,” Stephanie added with an air of authority.

  “I’ll go see her as soon as I shave. Maybe I should call her first—to tell her what happened.”

  Gracie frowned. “I’ll call her. You go shave.” Then she stalked off.

  Jordan headed for the downstairs bathroom, feeling the sooner he got out of there the better. He could just imagine the spin Gracie would put on his explanation. He lathered up quickly and began shaving with the sharp disposable razor.

  “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  Jordan flinched. Instantly, he felt a sting on his chin. “Damn!”

  “You said a bad word again!”

  He snapped off a sheet of toilet paper to press against the bloody knick. “Kid, never sneak up on a man with a razor in his hand,” he grumbled.

  “I didn’t sneak in. The door was open,” she replied, indignant. “What’s a razor?”

  Giving his small wound one last dab, Jordan sighed, realizing he had left the door open. He held out the black plastic razor for her to see.

  “My mom has one of those for her legs. ’Cept it’s pink.” Without missing a beat, Stephanie lowered the toilet seat cover and plunked herself down. “That’s because she’s a girl, huh?”

  “That’s usually the reason.” Resigned to the half pint’s presence, Jordan leaned over the sink and resumed his shave.

  “What’s that on your face?”

  “Shaving cream. It’s kind of a foamy soap.”

  “My mom has lots of foamy stuff at the store. And it smells better than that stuff.”

  “Uh-huh,” he murmured as he stroked the razor along his jaw.

  “Mommy calls it moose. But that’s crazy,” Stephanie said with a slip of a giggle. “Mooses can’t use it.”

  Jordan shot her a glance and grinned in spite of himself. “You’ve got a point there, kid. A real good point.”

  After he finished shaving, Stephanie stayed right on his heels as he went looking for Gracie. She was in the kitchen, flipping pancakes on a. hot griddle.

  “I’ll be on my way now,” he told her. “Thanks for, ah, everything.”

  . “Hold on there, Mr. Mason. Who’s gonna eat these?” She jabbed the plastic spatula at the cooking hotcakes.

  “Those are for me?”

  “Who else?” she barked. “Holly insisted you get a decent breakfast before you left this house.”

  Jordan knew he was already on the housekeeper’s bad side after yesterday’s misunderstanding. Although he’d probably never see her again after today, he figured it was best to appease her. Besides, the doughy aroma wafting in the air taunted his empty stomach. He sat down at the kitchen table as ordered.

  While Gracie served him a plateload of buttermilk pancakes, Stephanie dragged her plastic booster seat from the dining room and plopped it on the empty chair next to him.

  “You’ve already had breakfast, dear,” Gracie reminded her before announcing she was off to put the den back in order.

  The kid climbed up onto the booster seat. “I’m just gonna watch, Gracie.”

  And watch she did. Jordan had never known what it felt like to be on display—until now. Her big brown eyes followed his every move as he patted butter on each pancake, then doused them with maple syrup. But when she fixed her gaze on his mouth as he was about to take the first bite, Jordan put his fork down.

  “Would you like some?”

  Stephanie’s eyes widened, and she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry about Gracie. It’ll take her a while to pick up in the den,” he said in a low, conspiring voice. “How about it? Want some?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered, her pale-blond pigtails bouncing with her excited nod.

  Jordan grabbed a clean plate from the sink drainer and quickly scooped out a small portion from his own dish. While they ate in companionable silence, he was struck anew by how much Stephanie physically resembled Holly. Watching her eat with gung-ho enthusiasm, Jordan was glad there wasn’t any little girl prissiness in this kid. Yeah ; he thought with a smile, Stephanie was a tomboyish squirt, all right—just as her mother used to be.

  As soon as they finished eating, Jordan told Stephanie he had to be going.

  “When will you come back?”

  “When?”

  The utter earnestness on her face threw him. He wasn’t planning to ever come back, yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that.

  “Maybe tomorrow?” she asked “Mommy will be home all day.”

  Jordan’s mind went blank. For whatever reason, the kid had taken a liking to him, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Her watchful gaze, however, demanded a reply. “You see, Stephanie, I live way over on the other side of the state. It’s too far for me to just turn around and come back tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” Stephanie stared down at the table until, suddenly, her face brightened. She looked up at Jordan with a big smile. “Can you come the day after tomorrow?”

  His heart sank. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then when?”

  As her smile faded, Jordan didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to lie to the kid. But delivering the news straight to that hopeful little face was too much—even for him. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I don’t know, honey.”

  Stephanie nodded, her disappointment clear. Jordan half expected her to start crying.

  He felt like such a heel. Still, what else could he have said or done? Geesh. How had he ended up in this position anyway? This brief visit to Golden—his favor for an old family friend—had gotten out of hand. Without a doubt, it was time for him to leave.

  Stephanie still followed him as he collected his belongings and said goodbye to Gracie. The kid didn’t say much, though, not even when Jordan said goodbye on the front porch. When he started up his car, she was still there, sitting on the top step, watching.

  She looked so small and lonely. He felt bad about leaving her. But that was crazy—he barely knew the kid. Before driving away, he rolled down the window and waved. To his surprise, Stephanie’s face lit up once more and she waved back with both hands flapping buoyantly.

  But damn, that made him feel worse.

  “This is ridiculous,” Jordan muttered, stealing a last look at Stephanie from the rearview mirror. Lack of sleep was doing this to him, he concluded. A decent night’s rest would restore his perspective.

  So would getting the hell out of this town.

  Holly spotted Jordan parking in front of the shop, while she was showing a new line of vegetable shampoos and conditioners to the Sanderson twins. The girls were two of her best customers. Being the most sought-after teenaged baby-sitters in town, they never failed to show up at the shop on Saturday mornings, flush with their Friday-night earnings. Today, it seemed they were sampling and sniffing every product in the store. But now that Jordan was here, Holly wished the twins would hurry up and make up their minds. Unfortunately, her Saturday sales assistant had called in sick, leaving Holly to manage the shop alone.

  She would need a private moment to tell Jordan about Scott’s being Stephanie’s father. Guilt had kept her awake most of the night. But his disappearance this morning had dashed her chance to talk to him at home. Now—somehow—she had to tell him here in th
e store. And she had to do it before the retirement home van arrived with its Saturday-morning shopping group.

  The wind chimes above the entrance announced Jordan’s arrival. Turning away from the girls, Holly met his gaze right away. The intense blue of his eyes made her pulse thrum with disconcerting unevenness. She chalked it up to nerves.

  “Hi,” Jordan said, his voice sounding a shade raspy. He looked tired, too.

  “I’ll be right with you,” she promised.

  His slightly rumpled clothes and tousled dark hair didn’t escape her notice. She found the effect appealing. Certainly, this unintentional disarray seemed more approachable than his usual groomed crispness.

  Holly returned her attention to the twins. “So, ladies, have you decided what you want?”

  The girls didn’t answer. Apparently, they found Jordan infinitely more interesting than vegetable shampoo. Anxious about the time, Holly distracted them with an offer of free samples. The twins were thrilled with all the freebies, which eased her guilt about pushing them out the door.

  “You’ll never stay in the black if you give stuff away like that,” Jordan observed with a sly wink.

  Holly chuckled. “Those two keep me in the black.”

  Jordan took a long look around the room. “You’ve got a great setup here, Holly. You wouldn’t expect to find a store like this in—”

  “In the middle of nowhere?” she asked, teasing him a little.

  His lips curved into a knowing smile, and Holly felt her pulse taking off again. She didn’t think it was from nervousness this time. What it was from, she refused to consider. Too many memories and a five-year secret stood between her and Jordan. And once she revealed the truth, their lives would be turned upside down.

  “Jordan, I really wanted to talk to you at the house this morning.”

  His smile faded. “I apologize for disappearing on you like that. I was just driving around and—”

  The trill of the door chime cut him off, as Annette from the bakery across the street poked her head in. “Holly, did you get more peppermint foot powder yet?”