CHAPTER FIVE
Winter wear should be further from the ski equipment, Brennan thought, frowning at the layout on the second floor of his Mission Avenue store. If a person realized they needed a new pair of skis for that trip to Mammoth, they didn't need help realizing they also needed a new coat. Meanwhile, the walk between the two departments would give a customer the chance to take a look at the sports shoes, something they might not normally have noticed.
"Ah, there he is." It was the voice of Brennan's downstairs clerk, Sonya. "Told you I could find him."
Brennan turned. Sonya was bearing down on him, a formidable black woman with a perpetually sunny attitude. Behind her trailed Erica.
Brennan felt a big knock on his ribs. Erica was wearing crisp jeans and a sweater that hugged her discreet curves. His inner temperature grew.
"Hi." Smiling nervously, she made a fan-style hand wave.
"Ah." Only long-ingrained manners had Brennan producing a smile. He felt utterly off balance. Once again, she threw him. The shy smile, the subtly nervous body language: it all acted like a siren call. Power. You are so powerful, her body language seemed to say. He'd had no idea he was susceptible to this particular, if unconscious, form of flattery.
"This is a surprise." A nice one. Say it's a nice one. "A nice one," he hastily added.
"I gotta go back to my department," Sonya declared heartily. She was a model employee, adored her job. So without any apparent concern over what trouble she might have promoted here, she turned and strode back toward the wide stairs in the middle of the store in order to descend toward the camping equipment.
Erica dipped her chin. "You're busy. I should have called."
Was he showing his ambivalence that baldly? Shame prompted Brennan to contradict her assessment. "Not at all. I'm glad you came." It wasn't a complete lie. His stupid half was glad, thrilled in fact, that she'd sought him out—and particularly that she'd done so at his store.
His smarter, more moral half was horrified, however. He'd vowed to keep his distance from her—especially after the ill-advised reassurance he'd given her after the interview with Grover Hamilton.
But here she was, and he'd just invited her to stay. Making matter worse, she'd brought her cloud with her, the cloud of emotion that tended to catch him in its fog.
"This place...is amazing." Erica glanced toward the winter shoe display. "You have everything a person could want to have fun—and the way it's all laid out, like an adventure— Makes it look even more enticing."
Her words made the fog even thicker. Trying to avoid getting stuck in it, Brennan glanced in the direction Erica had looked. He saw the artificial ski slope arranged artfully with various brands of snow shoes and skis. She was right; it did look like an adventure.
He tilted his head. "I try to make things appear exciting. I happen to enjoy sports myself, so that makes it easier, I guess." He'd never thought about how his store might look to a true enthusiast. Usually, he concentrated on attracting the undecided. Heck, to an active athlete, the place probably looked like Christmas all year long.
He turned, and their eyes met.
He could immediately tell she was seeing Christmas...in his store.
God, that was a turn-on.
He cleared his throat. "So, what can I do for you?"
Erica crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself in a nervous gesture. "Maybe it's silly. I just thought you might be the right person to bounce some ideas off of. But I can see you're busy..."
"Not at all." Idiot. You should have told her you're busy. Frantic with busy-ness. Feeling a bit warm in the face, Brennan gestured over the store. "I was just doing my walk-through. I try to see things through a customer's eyes. Look for anything that might be off or could use improvement." Don't say it. Don't say it. Brennan added, "Why don't you walk along with me?"
He was acting worse than an idiot now. Inviting her companionship. But it was too late to backtrack.
"Sounds good." Erica's arms relaxed a little. "I think it'll be easier to muddle my way through this conversation if we're moving anyway."
"I was on my way downstairs," Brennan claimed and indicated they should walk in that direction. It was a lie, but there were more people downstairs. He wouldn't feel so alone with her. "Shall we?"
Erica took a position to his side as he moved toward the wide stairs in the center of the store.
"This is the thing," she began as they started down the stairs. "I've come to the conclusion I'm going to be the one applying for Liam's guardianship."
Brennan had suspected she would reach this point. He wasn't sure if he were glad or disappointed. A part of him had been ready to take in Liam himself. On the other hand, it was obviously best for Erica and Liam to establish a closer relationship with each other. On the other hand... "Are you ready for that?"
At the base of the stairs, Erica spread her hands. "Emotionally? Yes. On some level, I probably starting working up to the idea as soon as I heard my father was dying. But practically speaking, I have no idea how to work it out."
Nodding, Brennan guided her toward the tennis equipment. He felt an upwelling of liking for her. She wanted to be there for her younger brother, to do the right thing and be connected. His desire to sweep in and do it for her surged as well.
His instinct for self-preservation blocked any attempt he might have made to play such a hero. He couldn't rescue her. She had to rescue herself. Thanks to his support group, Brennan had figured out this lesson nine years ago.
But he couldn't leave her high and dry, either. She'd come here wanting a listening ear. He could provide that. That was a normal sort of help.
"Maybe you could go through the issues," Brennan suggested as they reached the rackets and tennis balls. The shelves looked orderly, nothing sticking out at an odd angle or obviously in the wrong place. But mostly he was aware of Erica standing right next to him. "Sometimes it helps to lay it out before another set of ears. You suddenly hear something you hadn't thought of before."
"That's exactly what I was thinking." She brightened. "Are you sure I'm not bothering you? You have time?"
Brennan continued strolling, aware of her keeping stride with him, a feminine package of controlled energy. It would take a crane to pry him away from her now. "I have time."
Erica pursed her lips as they approached the golf clubs. "The easiest thing for me would be to take Liam to Los Angeles. Hopefully, my dad's pension money would be enough that we could afford our own apartment."
Brennan regarded a nine iron while dread weighed him down. It was a logical course of action, one in which he could find no concrete fault. True, it would mean uprooting Liam, but that happened to kids all the time. They survived.
It would be sad, personally, for Brennan, though. Once Liam moved to LA, they'd have little interaction with each other. Brennan doubted Liam would have the time or take the effort to keep in touch with a one-time neighbor.
On the other hand, Brennan would also never see Erica again. That would certainly be for the best.
Erica stopped by an Old Town 15-foot canoe. "It might be easier for me to move Liam to LA, but I don't know if it would be better. And, truthfully, I can't say I'm all that attached to my life there." She grimaced. "Except for my clients. I do have clients. So my question is..." She glanced quickly toward Brennan and then back toward the canoe. "My question is if I could just as easily find clients here in Palmwood. That's why I came to talk to you. I figured if anyone might know, it'd be you, considering the business you're in." She gestured around herself.
When she looked at him again, her face was a light pink in color. Perhaps her reason for seeking him out, though logical, wasn't the whole truth.
Brennan wondered if she was thinking, as he immediately did, that if she stayed in Palmwood it would mean she'd be living right next door to him.
He carefully cleared his throat while feeling a little hot beneath his clothes. "It's a good question. My quick answer is yes. Definitely there's a comm
unity of health-and-fitness minded people in the area. I expect a generous percent of them would be interested in hiring a personal trainer. However—" He had to be honest. "I don't know what kind of competition you might already have in that department."
Nodding, she looked down. "True. I'm probably not the only person who's thought of offering physical training services." After a horrible moment in which Brennan wished he could pave the rocky roads of the world for her, she looked up again with an impish smile. "But I am probably one of the best."
Brennan laughed. Maybe she didn't need rescuing, after all. To his surprise, her confidence actually increased the pull she exerted on him.
Her smile twisted to one side. "However, getting people to know and believe that isn't easy."
"You're right." Brennan resumed their walk, heading further into the camping equipment. A Mountainsmith Morrison tent, fully assembled, loomed on their right. "But any business has to start somewhere. And no matter what you do—including stay in Los Angeles—there are always risks."
Was he being sincere or was he trying to talk her into staying? And what did he hope to gain if he did? They were never getting together romantically.
Erica kept pace beside him as they rounded the tent. "You are so right about risk even in LA. I got the flu one year, was out for a month, and lost every single client I had."
"Ungrateful wretches," Brennan declared. When he looked at her, they both laughed.
"A few of them came crawling back," Erica admitted. "I am very good at what I do."
He definitely liked her confidence. Meanwhile, they were fully behind the tent now. For all intents and purposes, they were private and alone.
He must have led her here on purpose, Brennan realized, as they stopped and looked at each other. The energy of their brief laughter abruptly transformed into something deeper and more intense.
Perhaps Erica didn't always walk around in a cloud of sticky emotion, Brennan acknowledged. Perhaps sometimes, maybe even often, she appeared the way she did now, like a small but vibrant goddess, energetic, powerful...desirable.
Her eyes were large and luminous. Her mouth looked exceptionally soft and inviting.
Don't even think it, Brennan told himself. Don't think about what other things she might be good at besides her profession—which happened to be a very physical one.
"Then I think it's reasonable to consider taking the risk." Brennan's voice came out very deep. "It may take a little while to gain traction, but in the end you could come out ahead."
"That's what I'm figuring." She bit her lower lip, thus drawing Brennan's attention to her mouth. "It's kind of scary, but kind of exciting, too.
His heart was beating very fast as she took a step closer. Scary and exciting summed it up well.
"Thank you." She smiled tremulously. "It did help to talk it out, just like you said."
She was close enough for him to touch. He could barely breathe, he wanted so badly to touch her.
"Glad I could help out." Brennan's voice was so low now it practically dragged against the ground.
Erica's smile steadied and then disappeared. Her eyes managed to get even bigger.
I am not going to kiss her. I am not. But Brennan found himself stepping toward her. Her eyes followed him as he came close enough to set an arm around her shoulders.
Don't do it. Don't do it. He might have managed to restrain himself, too, if her mouth hadn't trembled. Just a tiny bit, her lips shook, as if she were unsure.
That undid him. He lowered his head, and she raised her chin. Their mouths met.
Brennan closed his eyes. That felt so good it was almost painful. She had a softness overlaying some real strength underneath. And her taste was—
Intense. The whole experience was scary intense. He didn't remember when, if ever, he'd experienced a kiss quite like this. Intoxicating...
At this thought, Brennan opened his eyes. He pulled back from their embrace. He did not want to be intoxicated, even if only by a kiss.
If she noticed his abruptness, she didn't show it. She opened her own eyes slowly, a dreamy smile on her face. "I had a feeling that would be nice." A small laugh escaped her. "I was right."
Brennan's heart was still beating very fast, but now it was from fear rather than desire. He had to disentangle himself. He did not want to be intoxicated, not in any way, shape, or form. "I—I have to get back to work."
The dreamy expression on her face vanished. A neutral mask took its place.
Damn. Had he sounded like he was brushing her off? He hadn't meant to hurt her even if he did need to get away from her. Immediately.
"Dinner," he heard himself say. "Are you free for dinner tonight?"
She stilled.
"Just the two of us," Brennan made clear. It was high time they got a few matters straight.
"Oh." Her stillness wore off to reveal a smile. A big one. "What time?"