Falling for the Brother

Which was where she’d be right then if she wasn’t somewhat worried that Bruce had hurt his grandmother. She didn’t trust him alone with his own daughter.

That reaction brought with it a guilt that half-strangled her.

“I didn’t mean to give a false impression,” she said now, “but I know your time is limited. I also know how much the two of you love the beach.”

She’d needed an excuse to stay with them—which she couldn’t have done at his house without revealing that she knew Miriam was gone. And she’d needed their destination to be as public and safe as it could be.

The holster she had on beneath the flowing tie-dyed tank she was wearing wasn’t because she feared Bruce and yet…

What the hell was the matter with her?

She was letting Mason’s doubts get to her and that wasn’t right. Or fair.

But right and fair didn’t stop her from watching every second as Bruce and Brianna, in swimsuits, ran through the sand and played in the waves. At one point Bruce picked up their daughter and carried her out to greet a bigger wave. Sitting in shorts on her blanket in the sand some distance away, Harper tensed, but sat there, staring—and couldn’t help smiling when she heard the little girl’s squeal and then her laughter as the water crashed over them.

“Again!” Brie yelled, her feet kicking against him. Bruce’s laughter traveled in the air as he walked into another incoming swell, maintaining his balance as the water washed over them.

Brianna had told her how Daddy always took her to the wave. Harper now had an image to go with the story. A lovely image. A loving one.

Brianna didn’t clutch Bruce’s neck out of fear. She sat easily on his hip, trusting him to keep her safe. She’d never shown any fear where her father was concerned.

She just loved him.

FOR ALL THE trepidation she’d felt, Harper found nothing to be bothered about with Bruce that day. He’d always loved her homemade chicken salad and thanked her for remembering as he devoured the two sandwiches she’d brought for him—telling her that, if anything, they were better than ever.

He couldn’t talk about his case, but he told her that he was spending some time in a local resort hotel that week and much preferred the beach to the pool, where he’d been hanging out.

His words, of course, drew her attention to his tanned shoulders and the chest that he’d left exposed as he sat down in his wet trunks to eat. She tried to feel even a tiny bit hungry for him. She hadn’t slept with a man in four years. And Bruce was, without question, a head turner. She hadn’t missed noticing the number of women who’d been watching him play with Brianna.

And figured he’d had his pick at the resort pool. Had probably picked at least one of them; that seemed to be the way he got his in when he worked.

All of which had nothing to do with her, but might explain why her libido wanted nothing to do with him.

Brianna held his attention after that, and before Harper had expected, the visit was over and she was free to take her daughter and leave.

Miriam hadn’t been mentioned, but despite knowing there was something amiss with the older woman, Harper wouldn’t mention her. Miriam hated her, and Harper wasn’t allowed in her home, so Bruce never mentioned her, either. Miriam was okay, Bruce knew that much. So why would he voluntarily tell Harper that he wasn’t allowed to see her? Why risk giving her any cause to doubt him?

“Assuming things go as I expect with the case, I’ll be down sometime next week,” he told Harper as he strapped Brianna into her car seat in the back.

“Are you coming to our house to see us, Daddy?” Brianna asked, looking up at him with an expectancy far beyond her years.

Bruce turned to Harper, his eyebrow raised. Asking permission to come to her home?

“You’re welcome to pick her up,” she said. He was Brianna’s father and had a right to see where she lived, where she slept.

He nodded, kissed his daughter and told her, “Yes, baby girl, I’m coming to your house so you can show me your room, just like you said.”

“Good deal.” She nodded, her little feet kicking the back seat.

Bruce looked at Harper, who’d turned around in the driver’s seat to watch, partially to be sure that Brianna was strapped in correctly—the cop in her. He smiled, holding her gaze.