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
"Where do you want me?" she asked, looking up at him through her lashes. Pretty damn far, it seemed. Where did he want her? Anywhere. Everywhere. She blinked innocently. "Do you want me sitting on the chair? Or lying down on the sofa? Or right here on the floor in front of the fireplace?" Images flashed through his mind. Images of Mattie naked and willing shot through his head. Mattie poised on the edge of a chair, back arched, beckoning him to her. Matte lounging on the sofa, hair spread out across the pillow, breast proudly thrust upward, one leg bent at the knee. And of her spread out before him on the floor, propped up on her elbows, smiling up at him, welcoming him beside her. "On the floor." He barely choked out the words. "Good choice." Her lips curved into a seductive smile. She moved to the table and picked up the massage oil. For a moment, he stared in the silence at the bottle. Then it hit him. They were talking about the massage. Of course, they were still talking ab
Awkwardly, trying to his growing erection, Brad lowered himself to the bed beside her. His hip close to hers, he hitched his knee onto the bed, being careful not to let his jeans brush against her bare flesh. "See there. That wasn't hard," she teased. "Now pour a little of the oil on your hand—" She paused, watching him carefully as he followed her directions. "There. That's enough. Now rub your hands together to warm the oil. Then just rub it into my skin." Following her instructions, he brusquely rubbed his hands together. The minty scent of the oil wafted up to him and flooded his senses. Her fresh floral scent mixed with the peppermint and the simple combination seemed more erotic than any of Ginger's expensive perfumes. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath and gave himself free rein to do what his body had been urging him to do ever since he saw Mattie wrapped in the lemon-yellow towel. He touched her. Trailing his hands across her naked flesh, he explored the velvety sk
"Miss Mattie?" Mattie cringed at the sound of Lucy's voice, then looked up to see the girl peeking sheepishly through the cracked door. "Just Mattie would be fine," she reminded her. Jeez, it had been bad enough when she'd been Lucy's teacher. Now it just made her feel like a castoff from Gone with the Wind. "Mi—Mattie, can I talk to you?" "Sure." She shoved aside the shipping manifest she'd been pretending to read and leaned back in her chair. "What's up?" Lucy slipped through the door, cast a nervous glance back down the hall, then pulled the door closed behind her. "It's about Mr. Sumners." "Yes." Mattie prodded. "I just...I mean...It—he makes me nervous. You're in here doing—" she waved her hand through the air "—whatever, instead of being out there where you'd normally be. And he'd out there watching everything everyone does. But he keeps looking back here. Waiting for you to come out." Lucy's hands fluttered in front of her face as if she was swatting away gnats. Or tears.
"Have you ever been alone, Mattie?" His gaze skittered away from hers and he rounded the coffee table and lowered himself to the sofa. He sagged against it, like a wounded man shifting his weight from a crutch. "Well, sure." "I mean really alone. Cut off from everyone you know. Powerless." As he assessed her, she could only shake her head. "No. I suppose not." He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and focusing on a spot on the floor between his shoes. "When I was a kid--maybe fifteen or sixteen--and my parents went out of town, they'd leave me alone. Jessica would always stay at your house--with you and your dad and your grandparents--but they'd leave me alone. In that crypt of a house." He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "They thought it was a privilege." "Brad, you could have stayed with--" He held up a hand, effectively silencing her. "No, I couldn't. Not after my dad made such a deal out of letting me stay alone. He thought it was an honor. A sign I was a m
"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