Bedding the Wrong Brother(49)

He glanced up and saw her, his smile making her knees tremble. He put down the water bottle. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said back, moving closer.

His eyes swept down her body. “Very sexy. But it's not a bikini.”

His exaggerated pout made her laugh. “No.”

“I hope you don't mind that I went through your bag. I threw your shorts and tee into the wash, and figured I'd throw in anything else that needed to be washed, too.”

“That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” he replied, looking amused.

She peered at what he was working on. She'd been right—it was a frame, with gentle curves, scrolled corbels, and intricate beadwork. “Oh, Rhys. What a beautiful mantel.”

Grinning, he swiped his hand across the top. “Isn't it? Someone painted it, and I've been wanting to get to the grain underneath. Since you were sleeping, I thought I'd try to get some of it done before we leave.”

His voice trailed off and he frowned. Wishfully, she wondered if it was because he didn't like the idea of their weekend ending. Since he didn't say that, she just nodded, trying to tell herself the sudden tightness in her throat was a result of all the talking they'd done last night. Looking around, she grabbed a banana from the counter and backed toward the bedroom. “You can keep working on it. I have some stuff I need to read anyway. I'm presenting at a conference this week…”

Now it was her turn to frown. Hello. Conference. Jamie. Baby.

The day before yesterday she'd been imagining holding Jamie's baby. She hadn't thought of him once since being with Rhys. She certainly hadn't spared a thought, enthusiastic or otherwise, for their after-conference drink date. That was so not good.

Despite Lucy's concerns, Melina genuinely liked Jamie. He was attractive. Kind. Deep. She'd been excited by the prospect of going out with him. By the possibility of their future together. Heck, she'd liked him enough to try to turn herself into a sexual dynamo. In truth, she could barely remember what he looked like. All she saw—all she smelled and felt and longed for—was Rhys. Now here he was in front of her, and all she could think about was how it was going to end.

“Melina? Are you okay?”

She bit her lip, wanting to shout, No, I am not okay. She'd never be okay. Not after this. “You know how I am with public speaking,” she forced out. “I'm presenting a workshop with Jamie. It's a wonderful opportunity since I'll be just one of three on a panel. Jamie talked me into it, but I guess I'm still more nervous than I'd hoped.”

“You'll do great.” He put down the sandpaper, walked around the mantel, then held out his arms. “Can I have a morning kiss?”

She walked into his arms, squeezing him tightly and kissing him so eagerly that her teeth scraped against his. Obviously sensing her desperation, he pulled back, his brows furrowed. He smoothed a hand over her hair. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing, nothing.” She pulled away and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I'm just going to grab my paperwork and read in the bedroom if you don't mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I really need to catch up.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but simply said, “One hour and then we can go into town. I'll buy you lunch, and we can walk around?” The hesitation in his voice indicated he was thrown off balance by her strange mood, and she struggled to reassure him. The last thing she wanted was him feeling sorry for her when they went their separate ways.


“That sounds perfect.” Feeling like her face was going to crack because she was smiling so hard, she backed into the bedroom and gave him a cheery wave. Hesitantly, he waved back.

She shut the door. Leaning her forehead against it, she tried telling herself that the weekend wasn't over yet. She had the whole day with him before he left for…for…

She scrunched up her face.

She didn't even know where he was going when he left her.

With the thought came a wave of intense emotion. Dropping the banana on the floor, she covered her mouth with both hands in order to stifle the grief that tried to pour out of her. Turning, she stumbled, but she didn't even make it to the bed. Slowly, she sank to the floor and curled into a fetal position.

She was splintering apart, she thought. No matter how tightly she squeezed her eyes shut, the tears leaked out, all the more painful for their silence.