Nobody's Fool (14 page)

Holly had that stubborn twist around her mouth, like she might refuse.

“You have nowhere else to go and we need to sort this out,” he said.

“What's wrong, Joshua?” Portia stared up at him. “Aren't you happy?”

Christ. He wanted to shout a denial. He wanted to physically force the lies back into her mouth.

“Josh?” Richard's hand was strong and sure on his arm. “Not here and not now.”

“It's not—”

“I know,” Richard said.

A hot, sweet wave of relief flowed over him. The blood drained to his extremities and he wanted to sit down.

“I know you,” Richard said.

Josh nearly hugged his brother. He settled for a nod and a slap on his shoulder.

“And I can count,” Richard continued in a quiet undertone. “Not even you can work that fast.”

Chapter Fifteen

Josh parked in front of a Willow Park red brick Edwardian that showed signs of being lovingly restored.

“This isn't your condo.” Holly spoke for the first time since they'd left the hospital.

Portia was jammed in the tiny backseat and she leaned forward, between them, to look out the window.

“No, it isn't.” Josh got out of the car and walked around to open the door, but Holly got there before him. Already helping Portia out.

“Where are we?” Holly asked as he hauled Portia's bags from the trunk. She'd followed him around to the back of the car.

Portia stood to one side, listlessly looking around her.

“We're at my mother's house. I mentioned it earlier, before—Christ!” Josh stormed up the neatly paved pathway to his mother's front door.

A week ago he'd been living the life of Riley and now this. The Partridge sisters had tracked him down and systematically dismantled his perfect life, piece by piece. What the hell was he thinking, still standing in the middle of the wreckage and helping them do it? If he had any good sense left, he would pack them off to a motel and walk away.

Holly stood beside his car, the one she'd called a penis, in her badly fitting clothes and looking like she bore the weight of the world on her slim shoulders.

His muscles clenched in protest. He wasn't going to pack them off anywhere.

“And your mother is okay with this?” Holly had a good game face, but her vulnerability shimmered in the air around her.

He must be the only person on the planet, Holly included, who got how fragile she was. And did that make him an idiot or the rest of the world blind? Fucked if he knew either way.

“My mother isn't here.” He cranked the key in the lock with more vehemence than necessary. The door jammed, reminding him it needed more finesse to open the old girl. He needed to get it together. He gently twisted slightly to the left and up. The door opened. “And if she were, she would be fine with this.”

“Why here?”

The woman was going to kill him. That was for damn sure. She couldn't take a helping hand without checking it over to make sure there wasn't a concealed dagger. The anger bled out of him.

Life had taught Holly that lesson. His chest ached for her. She'd always taken care of her sisters at school, and it looked like she still was.

“It's quieter and there's more space. I thought it would suit . . . your sister better.” He couldn't even bring himself to say Portia's name. He knew she was sick, he got it, but naming him her baby daddy scraped him raw. Worse was the suspicion that Holly believed her. God knows, the lady had no high opinion of him in the first place.

The two women trailed him into the entrance hall, looking around them like a pair of stray cats. Josh opened another door and motioned them through. “The kitchen,” he said. “Make yourselves at home. There probably isn't much here, but I'm sure you can find a cup of coffee. None of the bedrooms are being used; pick whichever one you like.”

“Where are you going?” Holly's voice stopped him.

The truth? He was going to drive around the block as many times as it took to get his frustration under control. He needed to talk to Holly, but not while his fight/flight reflex held the reins. “I'm going back to the condo to fetch some stuff. I'll pick up some basics. Anything specific you need?”

The way his day was going, he braced for one of them to ask for tampons.

“No.” Holly shook her head. “We're good.”

Of course they didn't need fucking tampons. One of them was pregnant.
Ah, Christ
. It crashed down on him. How the hell was he going to deal with this?

Holly couldn't believe he'd slept with Portia. Even if she had no faith in him, she was a math whiz kid. She could add the months, same as Richard had.

The ground beneath him was unstable and shifting and he didn't like it. He needed answers and certainty and things to fit into place. Even if Holly did believe he hadn't fathered Portia's baby—what then?

 

 

Holly tucked Portia into bed. She ached like she was a hundred years old.

“Whose room is this?” Portia looked around her with cursory interest.

“Thomas's,” Holly said. “He's the younger brother. Wasn't he in the same year as you?”

“I don't remember.” Portia rolled over onto her side and ended the conversation.

“No,” Holly said, as if she hadn't been dismissed. “Actually, I believe he's a few years older than you. Didn't he have a skateboard?”

A big blond boy beamed underneath his graduation cap from a photograph on the bedside table. He wasn't as dark as his older brothers, but the clean, handsome lines of his face marked him a Hunter brother. That and the direct, unwavering glance of those clear blue eyes. All the Hunters were good-looking boys, but Joshua still took the blue ribbon.

She pushed down a huge sigh. Josh Hunter was going to be a problem in her life again, but for a whole other reason. She wanted to tuck herself under the strong, clean line of his chin and have him tell her everything was going to be all right.

God, he must be mad enough to chew nails right now. Mad enough to want nothing more to do with the Partridge sisters.

This was insane. Two days ago she'd have put her head on a block she would never see Josh Hunter again. Just a smidge over forty-eight hours later and she needed to be near him so much she ached with it.

Portia's eyes drifted shut and Holly made a move to climb off the bed.

Portia's eyes popped open. “Stay.” Her sister still didn't look at her but closed her eyes. “Stay, Holly, like you used to when we were little and we couldn't sleep.”

Her sister's face relaxed as she got drowsy.

You're not little anymore, but I'm still stuck on the end of the bed, watching you sleep.
It had to be some kind of deep and meaningful metaphor. What the hell? She wasn't going to do metaphoric today. Holding her head up on her shoulders was more than enough.

The room was like being part of
The Dangerous Book for Boys.
Everything was neat and in its place, but the room still spilled testosterone in messy, invisible leaks. Boy stuff littered every surface, rugby posters of big men with cabbage ears and battle-scarred legs and arms rubbed shoulders with Miss September of the surgically enhanced body.

Portia lay still under the bold diagonal stripes of the duvet. The red contrasted harshly with her wan features.

Holly smoothed back a strand of her hair. Questions she couldn't ask bubbled up, and she distracted herself by reading book titles.

Trophies propped the ends of a row of books on the rickety bookshelf. Charles Dickens and Jane Austen kept time with
The Principles of Statistical Thermodynamics
and
Advanced Calculus
. A raft of engineering tomes made Holly tired looking at them and, right beside them, an extensive collection of science fiction and fantasy.

The contrast to Josh's clinical condo struck her. All of Thomas Hunter lay around her, for her to see and understand, a visual clue to the man.

Josh's beautiful, perfect condo gave nothing away. Rather like the man himself, a beautiful disguise hiding the real man beneath it.

Portia's chest rose and fell in a more relaxed rhythm.

Holly got comfortable while she waited. The men in this family liked their beds big. The king mattress swallowed her and Portia.

Holly had helped her bathe and washed her hair before tucking Portia into bed. Portia was tired and overwrought. A good night's sleep wouldn't cure her, but it would certainly help—stability was the key. It was the most important thing for Portia. She needed things to be secure and familiar. Stress was a trigger, and Holly did what she could to mitigate the effect on her sister's life.

Melissa hadn't stood a chance with their vagrant lifestyle.

Portia's eyes grew heavy.

A fist of sadness clenched in her chest. It was such a large, crushing disease against impossibly frail Portia.

“Are you still there, Holly?”

“I'm here, Portia.”

Down the hallway, the low murmur of voices indicated the brothers were in the kitchen.

Josh had returned some time ago with the unmistakable growl of the XK-E. He'd stayed as far away from them as he could this evening, and Holly didn't blame him.

What were they talking about? Probably her and her screwed-up family. The old horror of having their secrets found out tightened in Holly's stomach.

Francis would have been horrified at someone seeing behind the perfect facade the Partridge family presented to the world: Francis, the world traveler and professional engineer, with his beautiful Venezuelan wife and their four lovely girls. It was the picture the family preserved at all costs.

She must have made a sound because Portia glanced over. “Did you say something?”

“No.” Holly closed her eyes. She was tired; that's what was wrong with her. It had been an eventful day, all things considered: the stress of looking for Portia, the relief of finally finding her, and the shock of the pregnancy.

Tomorrow was another day. Holly stretched her mouth in a grim smile. Unfortunately, it threatened to be the same as today.

Chapter Sixteen

Holly couldn't quite summon up the energy to do anything about her hunger.

She wandered into the kitchen, a large, homely room. Unlike Josh's condo, there were signs of life everywhere. The notices pinned to the fridge, the jumble of boots and coats in the corner, and the collection of misshapen pottery lined up on the windowsill. School projects from long ago, proudly on display.

The bench protested as she pulled it out and sat. The surface of the table was scratched and scarred from years of use. It was large enough to seat three boys and their friends comfortably. It was a place waiting for its family to come and fill it up.

Holly put her head down on the table. The faint tang of furniture polish soothed her, and she pressed her forehead to the cool wood. She would rest here for a while and then get something to eat. In the quiet, a rooster clock on the wall ticked, and Holly let herself be lulled by the rhythm.

The bench rocked as someone sat, and she turned her head, not surprised to see Josh had joined her. “Hey?”

“Hello.”

“She's asleep?” He had to cock his head to maintain eye contact.

Holly nodded. Her head was way too heavy for her shoulders and she left it where it was.

“What are you doing?”

“Feeling sorry for myself.”

“How's that working for you?”

Warm yellow light stroked lovingly across the fine angles of his face. Lucky, lucky light. “Not so good. How are you?”

His jaw tightened. “Honestly?”

“What the hell, go for it.”

“I'm still a bit pissed.”

She ached to trace the beautiful lines of his remote profile. His eyelashes were almost absurdly long. “About the pregnancy thing?”

“I am not the father.” His voice was raw with suppressed feeling.

“I know that.”

His expression changed so quickly, it was almost comical. “You do?” He turned to face her, and a frown creased his forehead. “You gave me this look at the hospital, as if you were convinced I'd done it.”

“I can count, Josh.” And she was an old hand at the Portia Partridge take on reality. “Portia is over four months pregnant. Even you have your limitations.”

He put his head down on the table, facing her. “I would prefer it if you'd said you knew it wasn't mine because you trusted me.”

She did trust him, oddly enough. It wasn't that. “I think we've covered my trust thing.”

“Holly.” His face had an austerity to it, like a Dutch masters' painting, “I never touched your sister.”

“I know.” It was the only tiny glimmer of okay in this monumental balls-up. “Portia constructs her own reality, and right now, you're it.”

“Lucky me,” he said, but some of the tension drained out of his features. His gaze slid over her face and the corners of his mouth quirked up a bit.

“It'll pass eventually,” Holly said. “She'll find something else to fixate on.”

He absorbed her statement with a nod. “Have you been sitting here like this for long?”

“Nope.”

“Because it's not comfortable.”

“I told you.” Holly sniffed in away that even she found pathetic. She didn't care. “I'm having a pity party.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Do it anyway,” he said and sat up.

Holly let the silence draw out as she put her thoughts in order. “It's the baby.” Christ, she was such a selfish bitch to be even thinking this way. “I can't be glad about the baby.”

“Because it means you'll be taking care of it?” He shifted closer.

“I don't want to take care of another person.” It sounded bad saying it out loud, but Josh's expression didn't change. She'd half-expected him to rear back in shock and disgust. “And what if it's like Portia or—” Holly choked off her surge of panic. “It's not always hereditary, but it sure does increase the chances.” And now they had another little genetic time bomb on the way. “You were right, this sucks. I want . . .”

No point in even finishing that thought.

“Holly?” Gently, he moved strands of hair away from her face. “It's not wrong to want things for yourself. It's only wrong if you take those things at the expense of someone else.”

“I know.” The lack of conviction in her voice fooled no one. Her head got all that, but the older sister in her still wasn't buying.

“I want to hold you,” Josh said.

Oh, yes, please, please, please.
A small sob caught in her throat. “You can't.”

“Why not?” The soft touch of his fingers on her cheek was heavenly.

“Because I'll lose it if you do.” If he held her now, she'd never want to stop leaning on those strong shoulders. A stray tear slid down her nose and landed on the wood in front of her. “I don't cry.”

“Why not?” His leg pressed against hers, warm and solid.

She scrubbed the traitor away with her palm. “Tears are pointless.”

The bench scraped on the wooden floor as he got to his feet. The loss of him left her bereft. Until he slid his long legs on either side of hers, cradling her body with his.

She had to scoot forward to the edge of the bench to accommodate him, but she did it anyway. And because there was nowhere she'd rather be right then than wrapped in a cocoon of Josh.

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. His lips pressed warm and soft on her skin. “I think we can risk it.”

He settled his big body behind her.

Holly closed her eyes and let it be.

He surrounded her with his warmth and comfort. His breathing huffed loud in her ear and his heartbeat pulsed strong at her back.

Holly didn't feel alone as she lay quiescent in his arms, and she didn't feel burdened. She was safe and peaceful and she let the feeling seep into her bones. She didn't have to be herself. “Josh?”

“Hmm.” His voice vibrated through her chest.

“What if I'd said yes that night and we'd danced?” Holly kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to open them and confront tonight.

“We would have danced,” he said and chuckled softly.

Her back vibrated as he hummed a couple of bars of “Truly Madly Deeply.”

“You remember?” Holly grinned.

“My mother says I'm a sensitive soul.” He tightened his arms around her, tucking her more securely into him. “I notice these things.”

“What was I wearing?”

“A short dress.”

“Good guess.” Holly laughed.

“A green dress with some sort of flower pattern.”

“Butterflies,” she said, close enough to be impressive.

“I was more focused on the body than the dress.” It should have ruined the moment, but somehow—it made her smile wider.

“So, if I'd said yes?” Holly shifted. “We would have danced?”

His thighs were rock solid. It must be the running. “Hell yeah. And I would have collected about twenty bucks from my buddies.”

“You bet on me dancing with you?” She tried to work up some outrage.

“Damn straight, but you turned me down and I ended up losing big.”

“You deserved it.”

“You're right.” He nuzzled the curve of her ear.

It sent a lovely shiver over her skin and Holly gave a small, contented hum of appreciation.

“If we'd danced, I would probably have copped a feel,” he said.

Holly snorted with laughter.

He joined in, and they sat there and laughed. His hands shifted until they rested on the waistband of her pants. His fingers brushed her skin as their chests rose and fell together.

A different sort of tension coiled in her belly. Beneath her sweatshirt, her nipples beaded, tight and expectant.

His erection pressed against the base of her spine.

“Josh.” Her skin was sensitized. It was so good, and it shouldn't be. Her defenses were melting.

“I know, Holly.” He edged his hips away a tiny bit. “I only want to hold you, to be close to you.”

Holly nearly protested the loss. “Is this you doing nothing?”

“You got it. This is me being your friend when you really, really need one.”

Unshed tears pressed hard at the back of her eyelids. A friend, someone to lean on. Shit, she'd never had one of those. “Have you ever been friends with a woman?”

“Nope, but I think I'm doing quite well so far. What do you think?”

The smell of him curled around her. “I think women don't look at you and see friend material.”

“I don't care what they think.” He snorted. “What do
you
think?”

“I don't want to think.”

His arms tightened around her. “That works, too.”

God, Holly could lie like this with him forever, even with the constant hum of sexual tension between them.

“What if I wanted more than a friend, for tonight?” Her own daring left her breathless. She needed this, him, and this was great, but it wasn't enough.

He went still before he spoke, his voice rough around the edges. “I would make myself want to puke by reminding you that you aren't in a good place to be making that sort of decision.”

“People say it's the best sort of comfort.” Holly's blood pounded in her ears.

He blew out a long, tortured breath. “You're not making it easy to be a nice guy.”

“I know.” Holly folded her hands over his. “But I don't want to be reliable, sensible Holly tonight.” She moved her head until her cheek was pressed to his. “I want to pretend it isn't real.”

“You want comfort sex,” Josh said. The bench scraped as he surged to his feet. “And I'm going to have to say no.”