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She was afraid.
Plain and simple.
But wasn’t everyone afraid of getting hurt? Anyone who took a risk stood to get trampled, shoved, and broken by failure.
She and Brennan had stumbled into something that, at the moment, felt right. But what would happen when reality set in? When they weren’t dressed in fancy clothes, tasting lobster dip, and living in some campaign that, for all intents and purposes, was some fairyland for her?
No matter how well she’d handled it thus far, Brennan’s world was not hers.
And that was the one thing squashing the hope brushing against her heart.
* * *
BRENNANWATCHEDTHEpeople who worked at MBH Industries mix, mingle, and engage in forced conversation—or so it seemed to him. Same old company party scene even if the setting was fantastical. The entire top floor of the store had been turned from a wasteland of old racks and mannequins into a unique winter wonderland, utilizing the holiday accessories and window settings from years past. Huge stage lamps tilted toward the vignettes and walking through the room was like walking through time. Large old-fashioned Christmas lights traversed the unfinished ceiling, brightening a party that still felt same old, same old....
At least until Mary Paige arrived.
Two and a half weeks of wonder, of feeling like a different man, had resulted from their one unscheduled date. They’d broken away from “have to” and explored “want to.” He couldn’t remember being as content as he’d been since they’d given in to what they wanted instead of what they had to do. It was an odd feeling.
Since then, he hadn’t wanted to stay at the office and read reports until his eyes crossed. Not when there were little Italian restaurants where they could share a delicious meal, Christmas lights strung in parks to stroll through hand in hand, and beds that beckoned to be wrinkled from vigorous, mutually pleasurable, hot, dirty, sweet, wonderful—
“Who are you looking for?” Asher said, arriving at his elbow as the wordsexreverberated in his brain.
“Mary Paige.”
“That Spirit of Christmas person Uncle Mal told me about?” Asher drawled, one hand in pocket, the other cupping likely his third or fourth drink. “Shouldn’t she arrive on a cloud with a heavenly chorus strumming harps?”
Brennan smiled at the image. He’d have to tell her about it. Then they’d laugh about her lounging on a cloud in a white satin bra and thigh-high hose and garters. “Yeah, something like that.”
Asher eyed him with a steely look. “You like this girl.”
Brennan met the gaze with his own forthright one. “I do.”
“She must be gorgeous, then. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you slumming. You slept with her yet?” Asher’s questions were inappropriate, and the words were slurred slightly. He hadn’t been the same since he arrived a few days ago. He’d seemed sad, at odds with the man who would usually work the room with a charming smile and biting wit.
“Haven’t you had enough to drink?”
“I’m on my second scotch, and I can handle my liquor. But you, if I remember correctly, should be drinking ginger ale.” Asher smiled and in the blink of an eye, he was once again the man Brennan knew.
The kind of man Brennan had always aspired to be—bold, fearless in the business world, respected by all, and married to such gorgeousness it was almost a crime. Asher had always been Brennan’s ideal in manhood.
“I was seventeen, Asher. No one holds his liquor at seventeen. Besides, I think that was actually a stomach virus that swept through Newman that week.”
Asher grinned. “Yeah. Right.”
Brennan ditched his whiskey and accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. Lifting his glass, he murmured, “To our misspent youth.”
“Whose misspent youth?” Mary Paige asked, swiping a glass before the waiter disappeared into the crowd.
Brennan turned and his mouth gaped. Jesus, she looked… He wasn’t sure there were words.
She wore a black sheer dress that covered her from wrist to neck to towering stilettos. Yet he could see right through the gown to the satin bustier and short panty-looking things she wore beneath it. Little black satin bows trailed ribbons down her thighs and mimicked the ones along the front of the dress. It was both stunningly original and fascinatingly sexy. He was certain his tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“Well, now, you must be the intriguing Mary Paige.” Asher’s gaze flicked over her with lazy interest.
Brennan felt his radar rise and beep…and if he hadn’t been among his coworkers, standing next to his cousin, something else might have risen and, well, not beeped. But risen. Definitely risen.
Mary Paige gave a smile worthy of any silent-screen film goddess. “And you must be the charming Asher Henry.” She held out a hand, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d murmured,“Enchanté.”
