Sonata by Moonlight Page 5

  “Until then. And again, I didn’t mean…” He sounded relieved, and with a charming gesture he brought her hand to his mouth and placed a brief, warm kiss on her fingers. A kiss through a flirtatious smile and big, appealing puppy-dog eyes. “Forgiven?”

  She laughed. “Think nothing of it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Nice guy. Nice-looking guy. He climbed to the front seat of his truck and hung out the open window, grinning, and she bit her lip and smiled at his blatant flirting. Yeah, he knew who and what he was, a man confident of the effect of his charms on the fairer sex.

  She enjoyed the sight of his tempting, attractive physique. Massive shoulders, no doubt a result of his occupation. He might be the owner of his business, but he obviously performed some of the manual labor himself—muscular arms and back, lean hips, long legs. All the parts she liked most on a man. He referred to himself as a pretty boy, and he was right. Not as pretty as Brodie, of course. Nobody was as pretty as Brodie.

  Jess slapped the side of his truck with a big palm, wagged his brows, and confirmed their date. She watched him drive up the steep hill. Tomorrow night should be fun, but she felt a little guilty. Almost like she was cheating on Brodie, which was ridiculous.

  They barely knew each other. They’d grown up and apart. He had no claim on her life, even if he did have a claim on her heart. She wasn’t sure what it was…the old attraction, a sense of obligation because he was Brett’s friend and possibly needed her, or something else. But a date with a different man might help clarify her feelings.

  Thinking of Brodie drew her attention to the house across the street. She was surprised to see him sitting on the steps watching her. It must be his favorite perch; he’d been there yesterday while the movers unloaded, enjoying a beer, watching the clouds go by. Now he sat, legs spread, hands clasped and hanging between sculpted thighs. Just like yesterday. She got the impression of a man without a purpose, a little lost, just hanging out, letting time pass him by.

  Her heart flipped over. She didn’t want to think about all he’d been through, or the gut-wrenching remnants of war he’d brought home with him when he returned. She hurt for him.

  He raised his beer in salute. Now that was a handsome man, not a pretty boy. A man. All he’d seen, where he’d been, and all he’d done—it was all etched on his face and body for all the world to see. He’d stood on the wall and served his watch so those he loved and those he’d never met could live their lives in safety.

  Allison was so proud of him, of all of them. Brett, Brodie, and the countless others. She would do anything in her power to make things better for them, to give them a hopeful future, to heal their hidden wounds.

  She felt a tear fall from the corner of her eye and trail slowly down her face. Regret and loss mingled with grief. If only she had known the tortured thoughts plaguing Brett’s suffering mind, perhaps she could have done something to ease his pain and he would be here with her now. But she couldn’t go back to that place. All she could do was turn her sorrow into something positive by helping another Brett find his way back to health.

  Perhaps a man like Brodie. He was here and alive and in pain. And, despite his physical strength, a little lost. She wanted to help him—she would help him. Whether he admitted it or not, Brodie Miller was a troubled man. He sat alone on his porch and drank to dull the pain. Her tender heart reached out to him. She’d do everything she could to bring light back to his life. For Brett, for her…for him.

  With that sobering thought she realized the feelings she’d had for Brodie all those years ago hadn’t disappeared; they’d been magnified through time and distance. Whatever was in him and had called to her called to her still. The teenaged heart yearning to be noticed, touched, kissed by him yearned more than ever. She’d been too young, and he’d had his mind set on other things. As much as she’d wanted him, the timing hadn’t been right.

  Mary Leo said perhaps this would be their time, if they would ever have a time. Who could tell? He had issues that festered, and a long road of healing ahead of him. If she took a chance and allowed her feelings for him to grow, she could open herself up to a world of hurt. The pain she’d felt back then would feel like nothing compared to the hurt she would feel now if she let herself love him. Maybe that was why she’d accepted Jess’s invitation. Maybe it was time they both got on with their lives.

  Yeah, she needed to take it slow, guard her heart. She’d help him if she could, but she had to protect herself.

  Brodie wasn’t the only casualty of war that needed to heal.

  Chapter Five

  Brodie sat on his stoop and lifted a cold brew to his lips. He’d watched Allison Chandler walk her yard with the landscaper. If she wanted to restore it to the way her grandfather had designed it, she had her work cut out for her. The basics remained, but years of inattention and neglect hid the spectacular beauty he remembered from their childhood years.

  He hadn’t been able to tell much about the man from this distance, but he looked young and fit. Ally had seemed to like him. He smiled; she smiled. He laughed; she laughed.

  Holy shit! He’d kissed her hand. What was this? Some kind of nineteenth-century romance novel?

  Allison looked like she bought it, too. Of course, she would. She was a woman. Women ate that shit up. She’d traveled the world; she was probably accustomed to such gestures, such European courtliness.

  He took a long swig of his beer. He was too old for courting. Too old for romance. If that’s what floated her boat, the landscaper was the man for her. It pissed him off, but he didn’t know why. No, that was a lie. He knew why.

  . She was Brett’s sister, after all. His bro would want him to look out for his little sister. Right? Yeah, like that was all it was. He twisted off the top of another longneck.

  Crap. A sour taste crept into his mouth as he thought about how she’d leaned in as the guy shut the door to the cab of his truck and smiled. Flirted. Yeah, she liked him, all right. But to be fair, Allison appeared to like most people. That was just Ally. She was a good person, always had been. Sweet, kind, friendly. Seeing the two of them over there, though, that sat like lead in his gut. And what the hell was with that? He had no claim on her.

  Brett had the same qualities. He was a real glass-full type. A genuine good guy. Always ready to help anyone with anything, and a smile on his face. Never heard him say a mean thing to or about another human being all the time he knew him. Brett was special. Just like his sister. The world could do with a few more like them.

  Wonder what his old buddy was up to? He could use a dose of the Chandler optimism and charm right now. He’d get Brett’s number from Allison when they had dinner on Saturday…maybe get the old gang back together again. Everyone that was left, that is.

  ****

  The next night found him back in his favorite place drinking his favorite brew. Thinking. Passing the time, and once more watching the activity across the street.

  Neighbors. He and Allison Chandler. Go figure. God, the woman had grown into a beauty. Tiny little thing, but lushly built. She had the kind of equipment that made a man want to grab hold and sink in. Brett would beat his ass if he knew he was thinking about Ally this way. But he’d have to be blind not to appreciate her pretty features, long shining hair, and womanly curves. She wasn’t a teenager anymore; she was a woman fully grown. The complete package. But not the kind of woman to have a casual affair. Nope. No one would mistake her for that sort of girl. The grown-up Ally was elegance and grace, a lady through and through. Definitely the once-in-a-lifetime type. She was a forever girl, and he was a temporary man.

  Too bad. Too damn bad. The more he thought about her, the more he wanted her. He adjusted to ease the fullness behind his fly. He was too messed up to offer more than sex, and she’d want more, deserved more. This was Ally, for God’s sake. Off limits. But he had an ache for her, no doubt about that.

  After the landscaper finished work today and left, she disappeared into her house. He could hear s
ounds coming from her piano. Practicing, no doubt. He didn’t mind it so much now as he had way back in the day. Of course, it sounded a hell of a lot better now than it had then.

  She ran through some sort of scales and exercises for about an hour. At least she was being productive with her time. All he’d done was wait, watch, and listen. Pretty sad.

  Man, he had to get a life. Allison moved in across the street and he turned into a friggin’ peeping Tom. But he couldn’t get enough of her; he’d thought about her all day. Watched her all day.

  Wonder what she was doing tonight? Back here in the good old U.S., any night was date night. Was she going out tonight? Not a half bad idea. He wouldn’t be surprised. A woman like her had to have lots of guys standing in line for a date. Wonder what she liked to do? Other than concerts or the opera.

  He glanced down. Last beer; last call.

  “Brodie, man,” he drawled out loud, “you are such a loser. You’re sitting here buzzed as hell, drooling over a woman who’s way too good for you. Brett would kick your ass.” But she was stuck in his mind, and he couldn’t get her out.

  A night out didn’t sound half bad. Yeah, he could listen to some honky-tonk, drink a few brews, and find a woman to screw around with. He felt an answering warmth below his belt. A woman sounded like a good idea right about now. It had been a long time—too long. But the only woman who came to mind was the one who lived across the street.

  Stuck on the stoop, he stayed where he was…thinking and drinking. He finished his last beer as a fancy sports car pulled in across the street. How long had he been sitting here? Too damned long, from the number of empties on the porch beside him. Shit! The pretty-boy landscaper was already back. He worked fast—same damn day fast.

  Brodie watched him take her front steps two at a time. He had to give the man credit, he cleaned up good. Since pretty boy wasn’t dressed to dig in the dirt, he assumed Allison must be going out with him tonight. So soon.

  He couldn’t blame the guy; she was a beautiful woman. Great minds think alike. Great minds being his and the landscaper’s. They were going out; he should go out.

  Brodie got up, took a cold shower, and pulled on dark jeans and a clean black T-shirt. He grabbed the keys to his truck, slammed the door, revved up his engine, and backed out of the driveway. He needed to mix with some people, have a few laughs, forget the image of Allison Chandler out with the landscaper, and find his own damn woman.

  Allison and her date came out of her house just as he shifted into gear and peeled rubber. He snorted. It was like a scene from a bad chick flick. Pretty boy, all dressed up in dark jeans and a pressed white shirt; sexy woman, in a figure-hugging black number that cranked his engine; jealous boyfriend, watching from a distance, gets pissed.

  The landscaper gave her a quick kiss and helped her into his Mercedes. Handsome and rich—what wasn’t there for Allison to like? She gave her date a killer smile. “Asshole,” Brodie snarled, and floored the accelerator.

  Damn. A spark of jealousy zinged through him—the second time the “J” word came to mind—that wasn’t a good sign. He had no reason or right to be jealous. Allison was a friend; practically family. He didn’t like the thought of her having a good time with this interloper, or the thought of another man having his hands on her. Brett wouldn’t approve.

  Brodie parked outside his favorite watering hole. He slammed his truck into park, right next to a black Mercedes. Pretty boy’s car. Prick. Obviously over-compensating for something. How the hell had they beat him down the mountain? Should he go in? Head for another spot? Or give up and go home?

  No way would he back down. Besides, if he made a move for Allison, he wanted her to know he wasn’t afraid of the competition. If he decided to walk away, he would have to get used to seeing her with other men.

  He locked his truck and stalked to the entrance, a little unsteady on his feet. He scanned the premises. Allison had just placed her wrap and bag on her chair, and the landscaper was swinging her to the dance floor. He whispered something in her ear, and she giggled. Giggled!

  A live band played an eclectic mix of country and rock and roll. Taking a seat at the bar, Brodie ordered a drink and listened to Brett Eldridge sing about a girl and a guy in a bar noticing each other, doing things to each other, gettin’ him some of that. He tried not to think about the meaning as he watched the pretty boy pull Allison closer as they swayed to the rhythm of the music. He shook his head and snorted.

  The bartender stopped in front of him. Rick was a friend from Bama. That was a main attraction of the Highlands bar, that and his buddy knew what he liked. He’d closed the place down more than a few nights since he’d been home. A cold Bud appeared in front of him and wept crystals of ice on the polished wood bar.

  “Brodie?” His buddy paused.

  Brodie’s gaze locked on Ally and her date, and he got right to the point. “See the couple by the dance floor? Do you know the name of that guy?” He nodded toward the landscaper.

  “You mean the stud making his move on the hot little number in black?”

  “Yeah. She’s an old friend, Brett Chandler’s sister. The guy she’s with works for her…a landscaper.” He spat derisively.

  “Yeah, I know him,” Rick answered. “He’s a landscape designer. Name’s Jess Harper. Owns his business. Pretty well off. Has a good rep. Nice guy, and all that. He comes in every now and then with a different lady on his arm. Why? You promise ol’ Brett you’d look out for the sister or something?”

  “Or something.” He took a long draught of his drink. The position of their table gave him a clear line of sight from the reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He could keep an eye on them without being obvious. He watched through narrowed eyes.

  After his second drink, Rick leaned on the bar in front of him and snickered. “You are so whipped, my man.”

  “Bite me.” He motioned for another beer.

  “She’s not your usual type,” the bartender observed as he nodded in the couple’s direction.

  “I have a type?” Brodie asked.

  “Hell, yeah. Hot and loose, and very temporary. Oh, little sister is pretty enough…maybe too pretty. But she’s different. Classy. The opposite of temporary. Didn’t Brett say she was some famous musician or something?”

  “Yeah. She’s a classical pianist—or she was. She moved into her grandparents’ old place and wants to restore the gardens. That’s how she met the landscaper.”

  “Wow. Right across the street. Sweet. You gonna make a move on her? ’Cause if you are, you’d better do it soon. Harper already looks like he’s in it for the long haul.”

  He glanced over his shoulder in time to see the landscaper looking at Ally like she was all he ever wanted. His arms enveloped her as they danced, and Brodie’s gut knotted. She smiled into the man’s face as they moved in time to the music. They were dancing close…too close. Her body fused with her partner’s. She laughed as he snaked an arm around her waist. They looked like they were having a grand old time.

  Brodie started to sweat.

  Harper swung her around, and her gaze locked with his. She had that doe-in-the-headlights look on her face for a moment before she lifted her fingers from Harper’s back and waved.

  Brodie lifted his head in response as Harper glanced his way—and didn’t seem pleased to see him. Rick was right. The landscaper was making time with his girl.

  His girl? What the hell? She was an old friend, right? Brett’s sister. Nothing more.

  But the thaw in his bones had begun, and he knew it. He was beginning to feel again. Just like the stinging pain of a limb warming up after a walk in the snow, the freeze softened and dripped from his heart. And she was the reason.

  She was different now. Hell, he was different now. Older, wiser, a little worn around the edges. And she was so damned beautiful. And sexy as hell. Maybe a woman was what he needed in his life. Not the temporary kind of woman Rick accused him of favoring, but someone more permanent.

&nbs
p; Maybe he’d give the landscaper a run for his money. She still had feelings for him, he could tell. Their history and connection through Brett gave him the upper hand. Something told him he’d better not take too long to make his move, though.

  With a final glance in their direction, he nodded to Rick, paid, and left the bar. The challenge of the hunt heated his blood, and some of his old confidence returned. He had a mission. Target identified. Operation Allison Chandler. Her arrival had triggered something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long, long while. Maybe because she was grown or changed from what he had remembered, or maybe because something had always been there between them. He didn’t know. But, whatever it was, he had a chance at something different, and he wasn’t going to let it pass him by.

  He crawled behind the wheel, looked in the rearview mirror, and grinned at his reflection. The advantage was his. She’d always had a sweet spot for him, and living so close gave him opportunity. He might not stand a chance, but he sure as hell was going to try.

  ****

  Allison watched Brodie leave the bar from the corner of her eye. He’d looked good, real good. Dark jeans, a tight T-shirt, and yards and yards of hard male muscle. He glanced her way as he made his way to the door. They waved.

  If she hadn’t just given herself that little pep talk earlier in the day, she’d invite him to join them. Wonder if he was meeting someone tonight? So what if the thought of him being with another woman made her blood run cold? She had no right to feel jealous. He had every right to a night on the town.

  So did she.

  Jess took her hand in his, claiming her attention. “The man who’s been watching us all evening—you know him?”

  “He’s my neighbor—and an old friend from the past. He and my brother were classmates in high school and college.”

  “He didn’t look happy to see you with me. I think he’s interested. Are you?”

  She tossed her long, dark curls over her shoulder as she hesitated, stalling for time. How to answer that question? She wasn’t sure how she felt about Brodie, and Jess was the man she was with tonight. She didn’t want to appear rude. But she had to say something. She decided to be honest.