Never Too Much Page 24

  Brooke was quite shaken. It seemed she’d been fighting against Kent for all the wrong reasons, and now that she knew more about him her legs felt like noodles. Kent wasn’t irresponsible, wasn’t indolent. Just the opposite, it seemed.

  He wanted her, and there wasn’t a single reason Brooke could think of to deny him or herself.

  Not anymore.

  She cast a quick, apologetic glance at Agatha. “Mrs. Harper, if you’ll excuse me just a moment?”

  Agatha waved a hand at her. “Go, go. I’ll await you inside, out of this dreadful sun.” She marched across the patio and in through the patio doors as if she’d had a written invitation.

  Brooke shook her head. The old woman’s nerve was astounding.

  Kent slipped his arm around her waist and led her away. “What the hell was that all about?”

  “I have no idea.” Brooke shook her head, confused by Agatha’s visit, and thrilled by her new revelations on Kent. His hold now was casual, polite, but even so, it excited her. Now she knew they’d eventually end up in bed, and she could barely wait.

  Brooke cleared her throat. “She’s never been to my home before. As to that, she’s barely ever spoken to me. I can’t imagine what she’s doing here now.”

  Kent picked up his tools on the way, holding the long handles easily in one big hand. “Want me to hang around?”

  The offer surprised her. And pleased her. “Thank you, but no. I’ll be fine.”

  “Will she give you a hard time?”

  “I don’t really know her well enough to say. She and Ben aren’t on the best of terms. He . . . Well, he’s protective of me.”

  “He’s your son.” Kent said that as if it explained everything, and Brooke supposed it did. They’d reached his truck—a new, expensive truck, Brooke realized for the first time—and Kent stored the tools inside.

  They both noted the limousine parked at the curb, partly hidden behind one of the large elms that grew all along the street. A driver sat patiently inside. Kent raised a brow. “Agatha’s?”

  “I assume so. She’s very wealthy.”

  “She’s also pushy, old, and,” Kent added with a grin, “blessed with hideous timing.” He hesitated, then asked, “Agatha’s son is Ben’s father?”

  “He was, yes. He died some time ago, when Ben was still a teenager.” Feeling somewhat defensive for the foolish child she’d once been, Brooke folded her arms around her middle. “Ben had never met Agatha until then. Pierce wanted nothing to do with either of us. The day I told him I was pregnant is the last time I ever saw him.”

  Kent leaned on his truck. The sun gilded his hair, made his blue eyes seem brighter, more intense. “His loss.”

  Pleased that Kent shared her outlook on that, Brooke smiled. “That’s exactly how I’ve always seen it.”

  Kent’s lounging position against the truck put him at a tilt, with his long legs stretched out before him. He looked very good in his snug, worn jeans.

  Brooke imagined he’d look even better out of them.

  When he caught the back of her neck and dragged her closer, she willingly fell into him, practically lying against him with his legs outside hers, caging her in. She went breathless and warm in a single heartbeat. His callused hand cupped her cheek and tipped up her chin.

  Their eyes met.

  “We’re going to burn up the sheets, Brooke, you can count on that.”

  She shivered, and her breathing deepened.

  “But you should know up front, I want more than just sex.”

  Startled, Brooke said, “You do?”

  “Damn right.”

  “Why?” She’d only just resigned herself to the idea of an affair with him. It was a huge step for her, certainly not something she normally did. She’d had a few discreet relationships, never serious enough for Ben to know about because she’d always known the men were temporary. The resulting sexual encounters had come about naturally.

  This was the first time she’d walked into an affair with her eyes wide-open, with sex as the intent.

  With so much anticipation.

  They were at the top of her long driveway, hidden by large shrubs. Kent held her face and gently kissed her, leaving Brooke wanting more.

  “Damn,” he said, sounding frustrated. “This isn’t the best time or place, so I’m going to make it brief.”

  “Make what brief?”

  “My explanations.” He pulled her into his chest and held her there. Brooke could feel his heartbeat against her cheek, and she breathed in his sun-warmed, rugged scent. “After I lost my wife, it took me a while to get on with my life again, and even then, women didn’t mean much to me other than a warm body when I needed to get laid.”

  His bluntness continued to shock Brooke—and sometimes excite her. But she didn’t want to hear about him with other women. Not even his wife.

  “You don’t have to—”

  Kent kissed her before she could deny him. This kiss wasn’t gentle. He took her mouth possessively while pressing his erection against her belly. He felt huge and hard, so much a man that he made her feel more like a woman.

  She couldn’t stop the moan, or the shivers that chased through her.

  His forehead to hers, his jaw locked, Kent said, “You’re different, Brooke. It’s not just about the sex, though God knows, when I get inside you, it’s going to be so fucking good.”

  Brooke moaned again, because she knew he was right.

  “But I want more than one night, more than one week. More than temporary.”

  Brooke shuddered—and carefully moved away. Her chest rose and fell and for an instant, she could barely think.

  Kent caught the back of her neck, keeping her near. “You’ll like it fast, sweetheart. Fast and hard and deep.”

  “Yes.”

  He was silent a moment, hesitating, then resigned. “When I met Sierra for the first time, she had a black eye and more bruises than I could count.”

  Brooke gaped at him. He’d thrown her with that statement, dropping it on her cold and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  “I’d been dead inside, mourning my wife, and then one day I was driving past this small town and there she was, a battered suitcase in her hand, trudging along the damn highway. She didn’t want a ride, but I was afraid she’d collapse any second she looked so defeated. I talked her into getting into my truck, then talked her into sharing lunch and . . .” He rolled his shoulders and stared up at the clear blue sky. “It’s strange, because Sierra thinks I saved her, when really she saved me. I’d been floundering, unable to think of anything except my loss, and she gave me a new purpose.”

  “Dear God.” Brooke’s heart softened and swelled. Kent was the antithesis of Pierce. Ben’s father had turned his back on her when she’d needed him most; Kent had gone out of his way to befriend and assist a woman he didn’t even know. Her smile came, wobbly and uncertain but filled with hope.

  “Yeah, it hasn’t been easy for her.” He stared at Brooke, his look concentrated, hard. “Her ex is a coward and I should have taken care of him long ago.”

  Brooke touched his jaw. “Why didn’t you?”

  Strangely enough, Kent looked pleased by her question. “He has a knack for knowing what will hurt Sierra the most. And he has a lot of powerful relatives with far-reaching influence. He can’t hurt me, and he knows it, but if I went after him, he could make it impossible for Sierra to ever get a loan, and he can buy existing loans and call them in. That’s what he did to her father, and the man lost everything.”

  “Is that legal?”

  “Other than his personal abuse of Sierra, everything he’s done is aboveboard. And even the abuse would be hard to prove. His father was the sheriff, then the mayor.”

  “Which gave him certain immunity?”

  “That’s about it. Sierra thought moving farther away was the answer, and since there was no place in particular I wanted to be, I came with her. She’s so happy here now, so content—except for Griff.
” He looked at her and admitted, “He’s followed her here.”

  “Well, we have to do something!”

  Kent grinned and hugged her close. “I knew you’d understand. And yeah, I agree. I’m just not sure yet what to do. Sierra is so damned adamant about not involving others.”

  “I’ll speak with her.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. She’d be upset if she knew I’d told you.”

  “Oh.” Brooke worked things through her mind. “Maybe Ben . . .”

  “Shh. I’m keeping an eye on things, and I’m hoping like hell Sierra will tell Ben herself, that she’ll trust him enough to let him know what’s going on.”

  “If this cretin could hurt my son, then I have to warn him.”

  Kent rubbed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “Will you let me handle it? Please?”

  She didn’t want to, but she also knew that Sierra wouldn’t welcome her interference. Brooke settled on a compromise. “For now, I’ll trust you.”

  “Thank you.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “And now you know that Sierra is very special to me, but I don’t want her, not in the way I want you.”

  The way he wanted her gave her pause. “Not for a brief fling?”

  “There won’t be anything brief in our dealings together, Brooke.”

  A shiver of sexual awareness nearly took her breath.

  “I’ll be back tonight when we can have a little privacy. Seven o’clock?”

  The evening seemed too far away. “Yes. All right.”

  Kent reached for her but she stepped back. She had to collect herself before she went back inside. “I have to go. I don’t want to keep Mrs. Harper waiting.”

  His lopsided grin almost made him look boyish.

  Almost. “Meaning you don’t like having her snoop through your house.”

  Brooke smiled too, a genuine smile this time. Kent wasn’t just a devastatingly handsome, sexy man. He was a very good man as well. “Exactly.” She touched his chest. “Don’t be late.”

  His eyes widened at the wicked way she whispered that, and then his slow smile made her heart turn over.

  Brooke hurried away. Oh God, it was going to be all too easy to fall in love with Kent Monroe.

  Agatha ducked away from the window when she saw Brooke heading for the house. She didn’t blame Brooke for being swept away. Why, if she were forty years younger, she’d have been lured by the impressive Kent Monroe herself.

  She was seated demurely in a soft padded chair when Brooke rushed into the living room. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  Agatha sniffed, but deep inside, she was amazed by Brooke’s continued politeness. She’d given her little enough reason to be polite and no reason at all to be kind.

  Agatha went straight to the matter of her visit. “I want Ben named in my will, but he insists he’ll discard anything I leave him.”

  Brooke slowly sat across from her on a matching sofa. “I see.” She gave her a look of apology. “He’s a grown man, Mrs. Harper, and he makes his own decisions without my help.”

  “Nonsense. He loves and respects you. That’s apparent enough to one and all. He’ll listen to you.”

  Brooke started to shake her head but Agatha continued. “He deserves his share of the inheritance. I want him to have it.”

  Brooke stared at her a long moment, then she sighed and her voice gentled. “Perhaps what you want to give him is not what Ben really wants from you.”

  “Then what? I’ve named him for property, stock, cash . . .”

  “Love?”

  Agatha drew herself up. “I beg your pardon?” “Respect? Affection?”

  Damn it, she was too old to get flustered, but she still found herself muttering without her usual decisive tone. “The scamp knows I care about him.”

  Brooke smiled, and in that smile, Agatha saw a resemblance. “Does he? How often have you told him?”

  To Agatha’s consternation, she felt herself blush. It was unbearable so she came to her feet and began to pace. “I’m nearly eighty years old, you know. I need this matter settled.”

  “Then I suggest you settle it.”

  Agatha would never have imagined that stern tone from Brooke Badwin. The few times she’d been in the woman’s company, she’d been as timid as a mouse. Agatha gave her a sharp look. “You’re berating me?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised, Mrs. Harper. You were a mother yourself. You know that there are times when you must be stern. And Ben’s always been a rascal. He’s kept me on my toes.”

  That hurt. Agatha sank back into her seat and made an admission that she hadn’t given to anyone else. “I wasn’t much of a mother, I’m afraid.” She didn’t dare look at Brooke but kept her gaze trained on a distant wall.

  Silence stretched out, painful, making her old bones ache, making her want to relax her shoulders, even slump back in her seat. Then she heard Brooke stand up. Seconds later Brooke sat beside her and took her hand.

  Agatha was so startled by the gesture, she had the awful feeling her mouth hung open. If she wasn’t careful, she’d lose her partial bridge.

  “We all do the best we can.” Brooke gently squeezed her fingers, offering her comfort when Agatha knew she’d never deserved it. “Sometimes as mothers, we make mistakes that haunt us forever, and sometimes we come to brilliant conclusions. Unfortunately, it’s tough to know which is which until the child is older and we can see the results.”

  Agatha swallowed her pride, and gave Brooke a truth she should have given her years ago. “You made some brilliant conclusions concerning Benjamin. He’s quite the remarkable young man.”

  Brooke smiled, and Agatha realized exactly how lovely she was. It made it easier for her to understand how her son could have been taken with her, but not why he would have been so reprehensible in his duty.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Harper.”

  Agatha mustered her gumption and sat a little straighter. “Bosh. Enough of that ridiculous formality. You’ll call me Agatha.”

  “All right. Agatha, have you ever told Ben that you’re proud of him?”

  “He doesn’t exactly make it easy.” No, Agatha thought. Anytime she was around him, Ben put up his defenses and either argued with her or made everything a joke. “His wit is quite entertaining, but he also uses it to distract me when he doesn’t want to come right out and insult me.” Agatha shook her head. “He’s a charmer, and he knows it.”

  “If you want a closer relationship with Ben, you’ll have to be honest with him.”

  Agatha focused on Brooke with shrewd intent. “I thought perhaps I’d enlist you and his young lady, Sierra, to aid me.”

  “Aid you how?”

  “He cares about you both. When Noah was giving me fits, it was Grace who brought him around.”

  Brooke shook her head before Agatha could finish. “Oh no. You’ll have to work through your personal relationship on your own.”

  “You’re refusing to help me?” Agatha had deliberately made her voice strident, commanding.

  Brooke pushed to her feet. “Not once have I ever tried to turn Ben against you or your son. Don’t expect me to do the opposite now. Ben is a grown man, intelligent and fair and kind. If you want his respect and affection, you’ll have to give him yours in turn.”

  “Perhaps Sierra . . .”

  “I know my son, Agatha. I wouldn’t suggest you attempt to use Sierra. It’s possible Ben is in love with her and I can tell you, he’s very protective of those he loves.”

  Agatha wanted to argue, but God knew she’d spent her life giving orders and now she was old and mostly alone. She pushed to her feet. “I’ll have to think this over. You won’t say anything to Ben?”

  “About your visit? Not if you don’t want me to.”

  Agatha smiled. “You really are an honorable young woman aren’t you?”

  Brooke’s own smile slipped into place. “I’m forty-five, hardly all that young.”

  “Comparisons, my dear. Comparisons.
To me, you’re a baby.”

  This time Brooke laughed. Her laughter died, however, when Agatha said, her eyes a bit watery, “I’m very sorry for all you went through. My son was . . . a disappointment in many ways.”

  Brooke’s smile was gentle and understanding. “But still your son, and so you loved him, and you’ll never stop missing him.”

  “Yes.”

  “I understand. And I’m sure if you speak as candidly with Ben, he’ll understand as well.”

  “Thank you.”

  Brooke took her by surprise with a hug. “Try putting a little faith in Ben. You won’t be disappointed, I’m sure.”

  Flustered, pleased, near tears, Agatha blustered her way through the awkwardness of her own emotions. “Yes, well, he has good genes.” She knew she had to go before she entirely disgraced herself. But she paused in Brooke’s doorway. Keeping her back to the other woman, she said, “Sierra asked me about big family get-togethers. I hadn’t thought about it much,” she lied, “but since she mentioned it, do you think for one of the holidays, perhaps we could all . . .”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  Damn it, she was going to cry. All Agatha could manage was a stiff nod, thanks to the emotions now choking her. She strode out, her head held high, her back rigid, and inside her heart felt ready to shatter. She had a family, a large loving family, but she knew she’d done nothing to deserve them.

  That was about to change, by God. She now understood what needed to be done.

  Ben would be pleased. At least, he’d better be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sierra accepted the cell phone that Noah handed her. He shrugged an apology when she gave him a quizzical look. “It’s my grandmother.”

  She wanted to groan. She was supposed to meet the woman an hour from now and had been running late. Noah’s condos were far larger and more complex than she’d ever imagined. It would prove to be her biggest and most impressive job and she should have been excited.

  Instead, Ben owned her thoughts.

  He had thoroughly invaded her life in the most wondrous ways. She’d even helped him by spilling out details of her past. It had been a selfish thing to do, and Sierra regretted it but wasn’t sure how to handle it.