Fifty pounds of pressure bore down on Brad’s chest as he struggled into consciousness. His head pounded. His body ached. His tongue clung to the roof of his mouth— a mouth so dry, it felt like someone had poured a bag of cat litter into it. To make matters worse, he had the distinct feeling that put in a good dent into Jessica’s bottle of Scotch wasn’t the only stupid thing he’d done last night.Why the hell had he thought it would be a good idea to come clean with Mattie? Why the hell hard he thought she needed to know how he’d felt about her back in high school? And why the hell had he given in to the need to kiss her?As if that would ever be enough. As if he’d ever be able to kiss her again without wanting to touch her. Without wanting to stripper clothes from that luscious body. Without needing to see—once and for all—the body that had fueled his teenage fantasies. Needing to explore every responsive inch of that body. Needing to drive her completely over the edge again and again
She flashed him a smile full of audacity. “Oh, Brad, but you are a nice guy. Last night only proves it.” She took another bite of the apple. “You see, nice guys always do the right thing.”“They do?”“Oh, yes.” There was something unconsciously erotic about the sight of her white teeth sinking into the mottled red skin, about the crunch and the crisp, fresh scent.“Back in high school,” she continued, “ you stayed away from me, because it was the right thing to do. And last night, you didn’t take me to bed because you thought it was the right thing to do. Undoubtably out of some misguided notion that you were protecting me.““I—“ he tried to protest, but she cut him off.“The point is, again you did the right thing. Because that’s what nice guys do. And that’s exactly why you will not be leaving today.”“It is?”“Yep.”He was sure she hadn’t moved, yet she seemed closer— more tempting— than she had been even a few minutes ago.“You see, Brad, I need your help. Or rather, my shop need
“What?” Lucy had somehow made it down to her knees and was holding the incriminating book in both hands, staring at the cover in confusion. When she heard no response, she looked up. Great. Just great. Mattie thought. How has she managed to hire what had to be the only nineteen year old in northern California who would never heard of the Kama Sutra, and the only eighty year olds, who apparently had? She struggled to her feet, Then reached for the book with one hand and pulling Lucy to her feet with the other. “ It’s nothing. Just a library book I checked out. By accident. Just a silly mistake.“ Now that was the understatement of the century. “A silly mistake, my behind,” Edith cackled. “The Kama Sutra. The Joy of Sex. Dating for Dummies. The Multi-Orgasmic Couple. The Girlfriend's Guide to Great Sex.” Edith pointed to each of the books as she listed off the titles. Picking up the books, Mattie said, “This is my business. My personal, private business.” “Poppycock.” Edith stood, h
Did people actually do these things?Mattie stared in fascination at a pen-and-ink drawing of a man with his arm stretched above his head and his hands tied to the headboard with a handkerchief.The drawings intrigued her. Sex with Mike had been...uninspired. And for the first time, she regretted that.Oh, she didn't blame him. Not just him, anyway. She hadn't done much to spice up their marriage, either. But now she found herself wishing she'd tried something a little different while she'd had the chance.What about Brad? A niggling little voice in the back of her mind asked. If she ever got Brad into bed, would she need such tricks to keep things interesting? Or would merely being with him be enough? She suspected the latter.After all, she had a lot sexual frustration to work out. After years of anticipation, she wouldn't need any kinky to keep her interested—all she needed was him in her bed. All that gorgeous naked flesh of his at her mercy. Just his skin against hers. His mouth,
Mattie stared at him in disbelief in complete silence. At that moment, he studied her waiting for an answer. He smiled ruefully. "No, I suppose not." His smile faded and his gaze turned solemn. "Is that why our marriage ended? Because I wasn't affectionate enough?" His words tugged at her heart and, for an instant, she saw him not as the attractive grown man he was—or even as the heartless businessman he tried so hard to be—but as a child. A little boy, lonely and uncertain. The surge of emotion she felt in that instant was dangerous. All this time she'd been telling herself she only lusted after him. Now she wasn't sure if that was the case. When had love gotten more complicated than sex? She forced herself to answer his question. "I don't know." Determined to regain control of the conversation, she smiled brightly and said, "But I have a plan to help you figure that out." "You do?" "Absolutely." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a single sheet of paper on which s
As she scrounged together the store's financial and employment records and saved the files onto a Zip disk, Mattie felt a bit like she had the time her grandmother caught her reading Cosmo's "50 Tricks to Drive Him Wild." Nervous and a little ashamed, even though she hadn't really done anything wrong. For someone struggling to be strong, financially independent woman, she'd sure made some rotten decisions about money in her lifetime. Trusting another man with her finances terrified her, but Brad wasn't Mike. He wouldn't make the same mistakes Mike had. Besides, she'd only take his advice if she trusted it. If there was any chance—any chance at all—that he could fish A Stitch in Time out of these economically troubled waters, shouldn't she let him? Which was more important, the store or her pride? The store, obviously. Because it wasn't just the store that was at stake. It was the jobs and the future happiness of Edith, Abigail, and Lucy. frankly, she didn't give a fig about quilts,
All this time, she'd been telling herself her emotions weren't involved, telling herself this was just about sex. She'd been wrong. Tonight, as he sat across from her at the table, trying to think of ways he'd failed as a husband, she'd thought it was just part of the game. Part of the oneupmanship they'd been playing for years. She'd meant to goad him with her teasing. But the longer he sat there thinking, with his strong fingers tapping the oak tabletop, forehead furrowed in concentration, eyes narrowed In thought, the more she realized how genuinely hurt he'd been by Ginger. The light overhead shone down, highlighting the blond streaks in his hair. The edges of him blurred by the light, he appeared less larger than life. More real. Until this instant all of her emotions for Brad—powerful, mixed-up, and confused though they had been—were rooted in the past. Rooted in the heart of the girl she'd been and the boy she'd loved. But now she saw him as a man. A real man. Not a perfect m
"Guess the lesson's over," Brad said, relief obvious in his voice. "What do you mean the lesson's over? It's not over." Brad pointed to the now-limp doll. "Suzie deflated. Didn't you notice?" He smiled as he lifted Suzie's hand then let it drop to her side. "No way. You're not getting out of this that easily." "This is easily?" She jammed her fists on her hips and squared off against him. "I promised to teach you how to give a massage and I'm going to do just that." "You're only making this harder on both of us. Why are you being so bullheaded about this?" "It's—" she hesitated. For an instant, she considered spilling her guts, but she didn't want to reveal she'd been pining for him all these years. "It's my duty." He stiffened. "Is that how you see me? As some sort of charity project?" "Isn't that how you see me?" she sighed, shaking her head slowly. "Look, if either of us is going to make any progress, we need to trust each other. We have to stop trying to outmaneuver one a
"You know, when I asked you to look out for my brother while I was gone, I didn't mean you had to do it forever."Mattie looked at her best friend—now her sister-in-law—and smiled. "Well, I did promise. And you know how seriously I take promises."There was a glimmer of sorrow in Jessica's eyes as she raised her champagne in a silent toast. For an instant, Mattie wondered if there was something going on in Jessica's life that her friend hadn't told her about. Then the moment passed, and Jessica said, with mock solemnity, "Thank you for making my brother happy.""Trust me, I've been waiting a long time for this.""You know, he always did want to be part of your family.""Watch it, I might start to worry that he married me just for that," she teased, even though she didn't really believe it.But looking out across her father's lawn, she could see why. Brad's parents—who'd nearly had a fit when she insisted on holding the reception in her father's backyard rather than the country club—sa
Losing Brad at twenty-one, when she'd never really had him, was devastating. Losing Brad at twenty-nine after lying in his arms, sleeping by his side and making love to him long into the night? There were simply no words for it. She wondered why the Nobel committee gave out awards for simple things like medical research and promoting world peace, but ignored the efforts of the brokenhearted to keep stumbling along as if nothing was wrong. Worst of all, she couldn't talk about her heartache with anyone. Jessica called every few days, but their conversations were brief. Mattie answered Jess's questions about 'how it had gone with Brad' as quickly as possible then changed the subject. Jessica—half a world away—would only worry if she knew how Mattie felt. Edith, Abigail, and Lucy tried to be supportive and understanding. But she didn't want to burden them. So for their sake, she insisted—repeatedly—that she was fine, relieved even to have the house back to herself, but she didn't thin
"Where the hell is she?" The words were out of his mouth before the door even slammed shut behind him. The bell continued to jingle in the silence that followed his question. For a moment, all three women—Edith, Abigail and Lucy—simply stared at him. Then the two older women spoke at once. "What do you mean, where is she?" Edith demanded hands fisted on her wide hips. Abigail's brightly painted lips pursed in a frown. "Isn't she with you?" Lucy's silence drew his attention. Even when he stared at her, she said nothing. Edith scowled, seemingly unaware of Lucy's silence. "She hasn't missed a day in years. We assumed, since she wasn't here to open the store, that she was with you." "She isn't." "Oh, dear," Abigail murmured. "Our Mattie is missing." Lucy—he noticed—showed no sign of concern. Silently she crept towards the door, apparently hoping to escape unnoticed. "Now Abigail," Edith warned. "Don't leap to conclusion. Just because she isn't here doesn't mean she's missing. I'
When she woke up to an empty bed the next morning, she wasn’t surprised. Brad rose early every morning— except for the morning she made him apple pie— to do situps and other torturous exercises. Given how much she’d appreciated those stomach muscles last night, she could hardly complain now.She stretched and yarned, smiling as she remembered the previous night. When they’d made love the night before, he’d been not just passionate, but surprisingly tender. And today was his birthday. She’d have to do something special for him.Mattie rolled over, burying her nose in the pillow, where he’d slept. The pillowcase still held his scent. It smelled like him and—she grinned as she recognized the scent—her bath gel.Only when she started to climb out of bed did she see him, sitting in her bedroom's only chair, half-hidden by the early-morning gloom. He sat, elbows on his knees, fingers templed, staring at her.And that's when she knew something was wrong. The relaxed, sexy Brad of last night
“Tell me about Mike.”Mattie stilled, about chocolate chips poised above the mixing bowl. Her hand clenched on the package and a few chips tumbled in. Deliberately, she shook half the chips into the bowl before asking, “What do you want to know?”She had the tapping of Brad’s shoes as he crossed the tile floor to stand beside her. In her peripheral vision, she saw him against the counter and cross his arms over his chest. “Tell me about the money.”She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she dumped the rest of the bag in the bowl—the day she was having for double chocolate chips. then she flipped the mixer on and waited for the consolation only raw cookie dough could provide.She turned to face him, “They told you about the loan,” she surmised. He nodded. “They shouldn’t have said anything.”“I pressured them.”She almost laughed at that. “Right. You’re the last person I’d expect to hear a defending them.”“They only wanted to help.”“I know.” She flipped the mixer off, extr
“You made her cry.”Brad looked up to see Lucy standing in the doorway to the office, flanked on either side by Edith and Abigail. Collectively, they looked ready to lynch him. The image of being hung by a quilted noose flashed through his mind. He laughed grimly at the visual.They didn’t see the humor he did. As one, they stepped into the room, fists propped on hips, narrowed in defensive anger.He held up his hands surrender. “Wait. I didn’t mean to. She’s just upset about the—“ He racked his brain for suitable lie, but couldn’t construct one. “About the books. She’s worried about the shop.”Infinitesimally the three women relaxed.“Well, hang it all,” Edith said. “We know that. But we don’t know what to do to help.”“No, we don’t,” added Lucy. “We offered to take pay cuts, but she wouldn’t listen.”“Oh, dear,” Abigail murmured. “We had hoped things were picking up. After all, a strong woman knows her own mind and her own limits.”Brad nodded as if he understood. He’d spent most of
He’d never met a business he couldn’t fix. Sure, some places had more problems than others did. That was just the way of the world. The good news was, for him at least, solving A Stitch in Time’s problems was going to be relatively easy. And brief.That was the good news. The bad news was, when Mattie heard the changes he was suggesting, she wouldn’t like them. But she was a businesswoman. Surely she would be able to distance herself emotionally from the problems with the shop.And yet, as he settled into the chair facing her desk, he hesitated a moment. He realized that he wanted to be able to fix her problems. Not because to her owed it to her—though he did—but because he wanted to be the one who rescued her. He wanted her to once again look at him and see her hero. Maybe if he saved her business, she would.The tiny room, dimly lit by a single overhead fixture, radiated with the warmth of Mattie’s personality. the ancient wood, the kitschy, Depression-era wall clock, and the inviti
Brad never slept late. In fact he hadn't slept past nine in the morning since he'd gotten drunk his freshman year of college, slept till noon the next day, and missed his economics exam. So he was more than a little surprised to roll over, crack open his eyes, and see a tepid ray of late morning sun creeping through the gap in Mattie's curtains. He blinked sleepily before rubbing the grit from his eyes with the back of his hand. He knew without looking that Mattie no longer lay beside him in bed. She'd slept curled against him for most of the night, and he missed the warmth of having her near. Missed waking up beside her and making slow, sleepy love to her first thing in the morning. But the solitude did give him a chance to think. All this time, he'd been saying he didn't want another wife. Mattie hadn't believed him. Well, it turned out, she was right. He did want another wife. He wanted her. Why hadn’t he seen it before?All his life, he’d wanted a family like the one she’d gr
She didn't mean to kiss him. It just sort of happened. An accident. Like the time in college, she'd tripped, fallen partway down a flight of stairs and broken her foot. One minute the world was right-side up and her feet were firmly on the ground, the next she was tumbling, free-falling, helplessly headed for disaster. One minute she was gently stroking his arm, murmuring something reassuring. The next, he'd twisted to face her, and the temptation of having him so close was simply too much to resist. Her mind cut off and she leaned forward to press her lips to his. Instantly she pulled back, surprised by the warmth of his mouth. But one taste simply wasn't enough. She had to have more. Leaning forward for another kiss, she pulled her feet up under her, angling closer to him. His lips were warm and soft beneath her. Pliant. As if he hadn't yet decided whether or not to kiss her back. But he tasted wonderful, spicy and sweet. Like cinnamon sugar. And she simply couldn't get enough o