Winning the Right Brother (2 page)

“Hello, Holly,” he said. “Long time no see.”

She was looking him up and down now, one eyebrow lifted. “You’ve certainly changed since I saw you last,” she said, her voice amused.

Just like old times. In less than a minute, she’d managed to piss him off.

“The Gap just isn’t a look I ever expected to see on you,” she added.

The kicker was, he’d put on these damn clothes with her in mind. Thinking that maybe she’d see a different side of him. His jaw tightened. So much for a fresh start. Like the seventeen-year-old kid he’d once been, he wanted nothing more than to wipe that superior look off her face.

He leaned back casually against the door frame,
folding his arms across his chest. “Most of us change after high school, Holly. Except you, of course.
You
haven’t changed a bit. Every hair in place…just like the old days.” He grinned suddenly. “Of course, I did get to see another side of you once. The day I caught you dancing around that empty classroom, singing to Bruce Springsteen at the top of your lungs.”

That
got under her skin a little—he watched the heat come up into her face, the way it had when they were teenagers and he tossed a barb her way. Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to say something, but a glance at Will made her hold it back. Alex wondered what she’d been about to call him.

“Wow, Mom,” Will said, looking surprised. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance.”

“That’s because I don’t,” she said crisply. She looked from her son to Alex. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but don’t you boys have plans to talk about that inflated rubber ball you’re so obsessed with? Oh, and the pummeling,” she added, the superior expression back. “Let’s not forget the intellectual stimulation of the pummeling.”

Will said goodbye to his mom and followed Alex out the door. “She’s not exactly a football fan,” he told his coach.

“Yeah, I picked up on that,” Alex answered as he led the way to his car.

They were gone.

Holly closed her eyes and leaned back against the front door. “That went well,” she said to the empty house.

Why had she let Alex get to her, as if they were still teenagers? Heck, she was the
mother
of a teenager, and a successful businesswoman to boot.

He said she hadn’t changed a bit. She knew what that meant. Boring old Holly was still…boring.

Holly was suddenly filled with a desire to show Alex McKenna that she
wasn’t
boring. That she could be sexy and wild and…dangerous.

She sighed. Who was she kidding? If she’d been uptight as a teenager—with one notable lapse—then how much more uptight was she now? Now that she was thirty-four, with a house and a son and a career to think about?

It was a little late in the day to start playing bad girl.

Not that she wanted to, Holly told herself as she went into the kitchen to clean up after dinner. She had a great life. A wonderful son, a beautiful home, and work as a financial planner she was good at and enjoyed.

Holly turned on the CD player she kept on the kitchen counter, and Bruce Springsteen’s bedroom voice filled the air.

She had to laugh. Trust Alex to remind her of one of her more embarrassing teenage memories—getting caught pretending she was a rock star.

She remembered how much she’d hated it that Alex had been the one to see her looking so foolish. Alex never looked foolish. He was always cocky and self-assured, with a knowing expression that made her feel exposed. Like he could see right through her.

Everyone else accepted her at face value. She was Holly Stanton, honor student—a good girl who never gave her parents or teachers a moment of trouble. To Brian, she was the perfect girlfriend. Their marriage, which would take place after Brian finished law school and established his career, would be just like her parents’ marriage: secure, successful and safe.

There was nothing safe about Alex. Their senior year he rebuilt an old Vincent motorcycle, all leather and chrome and sleek, powerful lines. Every so often he invited her to go riding with him. She could still remember his blue eyes daring her to do it even as his mocking smile told her she never would.

And she never did, of course. But a tiny part of her had always wondered what it would be like to get on that bike behind him, her legs pressed against his, her arms wrapped around his waist.

Holly came back to the present to find the sink almost overflowing with hot, soapy water. She turned off the tap quickly.

She hadn’t been on a date in way too long—maybe that’s why she was so susceptible to these memories. Why Alex had been able to get under her skin today. Yes, the man was annoying, but he was also gorgeous.

Sex on wheels.

She shook her head sharply and started washing dishes with vigor. No dates lately—that was her problem. She just needed to get out there again.

Holly bore down with her scrub brush to get the baked cheese off the lasagna pan. Maybe it would turn out to be a good thing she’d seen Alex again. Maybe it was just the push she needed to get out of her rut.

No, not a rut. She wasn’t in a rut. She just needed to get out a little more, that’s all. Everyone was always telling her that, even her own son. Maybe it was time she stopped laughing them off.

Holly rinsed off the now sparkling pan and set it in the dish drain. If she was going to embark on a quest to revive her love life, she might want to think about updating her wardrobe. At the moment, she had clothes
to meet clients in and clothes to clean the house in. Nothing at all to drive men wild in.

On the other hand, that might be a little ambitious. Maybe she could start with clothes to make men realize she was female. Then she could sort of work up to driving them wild. She was a little out of practice, after all.

Come to think of it, maybe it would be better to forget the whole thing.

Alex felt good. He’d had a great skull session with his young quarterbacks, productive and upbeat. The entire team was raring to go for their opening game. The forecast for tomorrow was sunny and high sixties, perfect football weather, and Alex was starting to feel that rush he always experienced at the start of the season.

Alex glanced up at the Stanton house as he turned off the engine. He wouldn’t go to the door this time. He had no desire to see Holly again, absolutely none.

“Nice job tonight, Will. Get a good night’s rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, Coach,” Will said cheerfully as he slammed the passenger door shut behind him.

Time to go now, Alex thought as he slouched back in the driver’s seat and looked at the Stanton home through his windshield. Will wasn’t the only one who needed a good night’s—

He froze.

The lights were on in a bedroom upstairs, and he could see Holly as clearly as if she were on stage. Her hands were in her hair, taking out whatever pins or clips held it in place. The next second it came tumbling down around her shoulders in a silky red mass.

She was wearing an old wool cardigan over the pants and blouse she’d had on earlier. She shrugged out of the cardigan, laying it on the bed behind her. Then she undid the top button of her blouse. And the next one.

He had about five seconds to make a decision.

Every cell in his body was screaming at him to stay. He might be honorable on the football field, but here? Hell, he was a man, not a saint.

Any other woman would let him into her house, into her bed, where he could see her up close and personal. Only Holly would never let him see her like this, and now he had an opportunity to catch a stolen glimpse. He’d be crazy to pass it up.

With a curse Alex turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the driveway, his tires spitting gravel as he went.

When it came to Holly Stanton, crazy didn’t begin to cover it.

W
hy,
Alex wondered as he drove home. Why couldn’t he do what any sensible, red-blooded American male would have done?

It was just…she’d hate it so much if she ever knew he’d invaded her privacy like that. Not that she’d hate
him
any more—Alex doubted that was possible—but she was such a private person. Being watched like that, spied on, would really hit her where she lived.

He sighed as he let himself into his house. What was it about Holly? He’d dated all kinds of women—sexy, exciting women—and this one diminutive redhead could still tie him up in knots, make him feel like an adolescent hormone bomb.

He’d been a junior in high school when his family moved to Weston, a small town in Ohio northeast of Cincinnati. His stepbrother was a senior and, true to
form, fit in at their new school right away. Equally true to form, Alex made it clear he had no intention of ever fitting in. He and Brian had always been at odds with each other. The only thing they’d ever come close to agreeing on was Holly Stanton.

Alex had met her first, since they were in the same grade. He could still remember walking into algebra that first day and seeing her at the chalkboard, writing out an equation, her teeth sunk in her lower lip as she concentrated.

It was as if all the air went out of the room.

A few weeks later he was coming out of detention (he’d earned seven in his first month, some kind of school record) when he heard music coming from an empty classroom. He opened the door and saw a boom box on one of the desks, and Holly Stanton dancing and singing with complete abandon.

He’d been struck dumb. She had a really good singing voice, sweet and smoky at the same time, and the bright copper waves of her hair bounced around her as she danced.

She caught him watching and stopped dead. He’d never seen anyone blush so deep or look so mortified.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you have a great voice,” he told her. Inspiration struck. “I’m starting a band with some kids at school. Do you want to be our lead singer? We practice every Friday. You could come this week if you want.” In the world of a sixteen-year-old boy, there was no greater gift he could have offered.

Instead of being flattered, she looked hurt. “You’re making fun of me,” she said, turning away from him and shutting off the music. “And, anyway, I have plans on Friday. I’m going out with your brother.”

“Stepbrother,” Alex said through a spasm of jealousy that clenched his hands into fists. He had no idea she’d even met Brian. “You shouldn’t go out with that jerk,” he went on. “You deserve someone better than him.”

She’d stared at him as if he was crazy. “Better than Brian? I don’t think so.”

During the next few weeks, Alex told himself it was only a matter of time before Holly saw through his stepbrother. She’d realize that Brian didn’t care about her—that he’d never care about anyone but himself. She was smart. She’d figure it out.

But she didn’t. And in school and at home he had to watch the two of them together, watch Brian swell with pride at having such a beautiful girl on his arm, the perfect accessory for his perfect life. And he had to watch Holly look to Brian for her cues, so anxious to be the perfect girlfriend that she could never relax, never be herself.

Was he the only one who really
saw
Holly? Not just that day he’d caught her singing, but in class, too, when her enthusiasm overcame her shyness and she talked about a book she loved or a topic she cared about. No one else seemed to pay attention to what she said—people were more interested in her looks, or in the fact that she was Brian’s girlfriend. Was he the only one who really listened when she spoke up in class? The only one who noticed how funny and smart and passionate she could be?

The longer she was with Brian the more rare those flashes of enthusiasm became. She got quieter in general and especially around her boyfriend, letting him do all the talking. Letting him be the smart one.

Brian didn’t want a girlfriend who was funny or
smart or passionate, who might take the spotlight off of him or challenge his complacence. What he wanted was a mirror, someone to reflect back his success, someone to cheer at his speeches and basketball games and awards ceremonies, someone to make him shine even brighter. And Holly seemed perfectly willing to play that role for him.

Watching her with Brian was like watching her disappear.

And there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. What could he do, when she wouldn’t listen to him? He tried a few times, in the beginning, but she shut him down fast. He might see behind her facade, but she didn’t bother to look behind his. Holly had taken one look at him and decided he was a burnout, a troublemaker, and obviously not worth talking to.

He tried to hate her. He told himself he did hate her. But he’d never been able to ignore her. He fell into a pattern of baiting her, instead—needling her whenever he got the chance. And Holly had treated him like something on the bottom of her shoe.

Alex came back to the present, shaking his head. His feelings had been intense back then—he’d been a teenager, after all—but that was in the past. He wasn’t that kid anymore, hadn’t been for a long time. He was surprised his memories were still so vivid.

A lot of water had gone under the bridge since high school. Brian had moved out to California and was the rich, successful lawyer he’d always wanted to be. Holly was a single mom with a career of her own, and he was a high school football coach.

They were adults now. You’d think he and Holly would be able to start fresh after fifteen years. But after
their brief meeting tonight, Alex doubted they’d ever be able to get along. They rubbed each other the wrong way and probably always would.

So why was he still thinking about her?

It didn’t help that she was still so damn gorgeous—or that his body responded to her as if he were still sixteen.

He needed to get out more, that was his problem. Since moving back to Weston he’d been busy every weekend, either down at the school or fixing up the house. He needed to go out some Saturday night with a woman who found him charming and funny and incredibly sexy.

He wouldn’t mind the company, either, he thought as he walked upstairs. His place was too big for one person. He didn’t know what had possessed him to buy this old farmhouse, except that it had a great yard out back and he liked houses with character and history and projects to keep him busy in the off-season.

But a little company wouldn’t hurt. Sexy, willing, female company. And soon.

It was Friday, the day of Will’s season opener. Holly meant to go home after work and change for the game, but she got caught in a meeting at the end of the day and barely made it to the stadium in time for the opening kickoff. She felt distinctly overdressed in her peach silk pantsuit as she made her way through the crowd to the spot in the bleachers Angela and David Washington had saved for her.

The Washingtons were old hands at this, since their son, Tom, had been a star running back in his freshman year and this was his second season as a starter. Angela did her best to explain the game to her, but Holly could
never figure out who had the ball, and she couldn’t tell the players apart in their helmets and bulky uniforms. Still, she cheered when Angela and David did, which was often, and found enjoyment in the happy crowd, the kids’ excitement and the beautiful September evening.

She’d spotted Alex right away, down by the players’ bench. She noted objectively—at least she told herself it was objective—that he was looking very, very good in a pair of worn blue jeans and a Wildcats sweatshirt, his brown hair ruffled by the wind. She tried to focus on the game, but since she didn’t really understand it and Will wasn’t playing, it was hard to stay interested. She found her eyes straying to Alex instead.

He looked at home down there on the sidelines, talking animatedly to his assistant coaches, slapping his players on the back as he sent them into the game and giving them high fives when they returned, pacing back and forth as he watched the action on the field, arguing fiercely with an official over a disputed call.

The Wildcats must have been doing something right, because the score was thirty-one to seven near the end of the fourth quarter, when Alex sent Will into the game.

Holly’s heart was in her throat as Will trotted onto the field to join the team huddle. Her hands gripped the cold metal seat when the players lined up, and when Will cocked his arm back to throw the ball. Then she gave the loudest cheer of her life when the pass was caught and the receiver crossed the goal line for a touchdown.

The game ended soon after that and Holly found herself swept onto the field with the hometown fans, family and friends swarming around the players in happy confusion. Holly took a few steps back as she searched for Will in the crowd.

When she felt a hand on her shoulder she turned, and when she saw Alex standing there, a bolt of electricity shot through her. She jerked away before she could stop herself.

“Nice game, Coach,” she said lightly, trying to recover her poise.

“Thanks,” he said, tilting his head to the side as he looked at her. “You know, I don’t see a lot of silk suits and high heels at football games. Do you even
own
a pair of jeans?”

Holly flushed. “I came straight from work,” she snapped. The two of them apparently couldn’t talk without irritating each other, so why even pretend to be civil?

He was wearing that knowing smile of his, the one that said he knew he’d gotten under her skin. She was about to say a cold goodbye when Will came running up to them.

“Coach, we’re taking you out to celebrate,” he said jubilantly. “We’re going to the Texas Grill, and you’re the guest of honor.” He turned to Holly. “A bunch of parents are going along, too. Won’t you come, Mom? Please?”

Holly sighed inwardly. She’d never seen her son so excited—she had to celebrate with him. There’d be a lot of people there and it shouldn’t be hard to stay away from Alex.

“Of course,” she said, sounding as enthusiastic as she could. Will looked happy as he went back to his friends, but from the look Alex gave her before she turned away, she guessed she hadn’t fooled him one bit.

Not that she ever had.

An hour later, having watched Will consume an enormous pile of barbecued spareribs and having eaten a few herself, Holly was watching Alex play pool. She had plenty of company—half the population of Weston
seemed to be there, all of them wanting to congratulate the new coach. For tonight, at least, he was the most popular guy in town.

That sure was a change from high school. Back then, Alex had gone out of his way to alienate people. Now he was at the center of a warm circle of parents and kids, laughing and talking with everybody. He made a particularly spectacular shot, and one parent—a single mom like her, but looking ten years younger in a short denim skirt and shimmery top—took friendliness a step further by throwing her arms around Alex’s neck and kissing him loudly on the cheek.

Okay, so some things hadn’t changed.

Alex had always been a flirt. He never bragged about his conquests the way some guys did, but his relationships had always been…casual. Casual and numerous.

He was running the table now, amidst loud cheers. The single mom was cheering the loudest, and Holly felt a sudden wave of depression. She felt out of place in her work clothes, out of place in the midst of this boisterous, celebratory group.

She was just tired, that was all. It had been a long work week and she hadn’t planned on going out tonight.

She found her son playing video games with his friends. “I’m feeling a little beat, honey. Do you mind if I head out now? I asked the Washingtons to drive you home so you don’t have to leave the party early.”

“No problem, Mom,” Will said, giving her a quick grin before turning back to his game.

A few minutes later Holly was standing in the brightly lit parking lot, looking ruefully at her left rear tire. It was flat as a pancake. She remembered the broken glass in the stadium parking lot, which she’d thought she’d avoided.

Apparently not.

She thought briefly about going back inside for Will, but she knew he was still having fun. And, anyway, she was perfectly capable of changing a flat tire by herself. She’d been doing it for fifteen years.

She opened her trunk to get the spare.

Alex sat out the next pool game, but there was still a crowd around him—fans of the Weston Wildcats and parents bubbling over with enthusiasm for their sons’ new football coach.

He was familiar with this kind of instant popularity. If they lost their game next week, it would just as instantly evaporate. But victory celebrations were always fun and he was enjoying himself, listening respectfully to one father’s analysis of the game, when he caught sight of a familiar redhead walking away from the crowd.

“Absolutely,” he said. “That’s a good point about our pass defense. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s another parent I need to say hello to.”

He was determined to talk to Holly again tonight. On the drive over from the stadium, he’d decided to try one more time to have a normal conversation with her. The past shouldn’t define the present. The relaxed atmosphere of the Texas Grill was the perfect setting—he could buy her a drink or challenge her to a game of pool. He refused to believe that two rational adults couldn’t get past whatever friction still lingered from their high school days.

He saw her exchange a few words with Will, but before he could catch up to her she disappeared out the back door.

He paused, frowning. He thought about asking Will
why she was leaving early, but it wasn’t really any of his business. She was probably just tired.

It was none of his business, he reminded himself as he followed her out to the parking lot. But he’d check on her, anyway, just to make sure she was all right.

He saw her as soon as he stepped outside. She was over by her car, looking down at what was obviously a flat tire. After a moment she opened her trunk for the spare.