Southern Nights: Florida (The Americana Series Book 9) Read online

  "You missed the point, mother," Jock said, drawing a deep breath. "What is Barbara doing to stop me?"

  Her humiliation was complete. It only needed Jock to set her away from him and leave, which he did. Barbara stood defenseless in from of his mother, too ashamed to speak and too embarrassed to move. The weighted silence stretched for several seconds. Then Lillian stepped toward her and curved a hand around Barbara's bare shoulders, which had only moments ago been warmed by Jock's mouth.

  "Come with me, dear," Lillian murmured. "We both need a few moments to collect ourselves."

  "Thank you. Yes." Her voice was shaking as badly as her nerves were. She couldn't have faced that happy, laughing crowd just on the other side of the arch.

  Lillian guided her through a side entrance into the house, away from the noise of the party. Once the doors were shut and they were alone, the woman's brown eyes made a quick inspection of Barbara's pale complexion.

  "Would you like a drink? A brandy, perhaps?" she suggested.

  "No. No, thank you," Barbara refused with a quick shake of her head. She moistened her lips nervously, knowing there were going to be questions.

  "I'm sure this isn't any of my business," Lillian began with a sigh. "But as a mother to both Todd and Jock, I can't exactly be called a disinterested party."

  "I know. I'm sorry." Barbara swallowed.

  "I know that you and Jock had met before. But I had the impression that despite the interest he expressed in you, you were no longer interested in him. That obviously isn't the case, is it?"

  "I—" Barbara stopped and admitted, "No, that isn't the case."

  "Are you in love with Todd? Or Jock?"

  "Both." Barbara realized that answer demanded more of an explanation. "In different ways. Todd makes me feel so safe and protected. Jock takes me to the edge of the world." She rubbed her arms, fighting a chill.

  "How well did you know Jock?" Lillian phrased the question delicately.

  Barbara took a deep breath and released it in a sigh. "Very well."

  There was a long pause before she asked, "What happened between you?"

  "It just didn't work out." Barbara shrugged, not wanting to go into that long story again. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. "But he isn't going to make me cry again. I'm not going to let him," she protested in a voice that sounded amazingly calm and rational.

  "How much of this have you told Todd?"

  "All of it. He's aware that I still find Jock very attractive, physically." Barbara twisted the diamond ring on her finger. "Todd has suggested that I take these two weeks to make up my mind whether we should be married. So far I haven't been very successful at treating Jock like a brother." She smiled bitterly.

  "I think Todd made a very sensible suggestion. Engagements are meant to be a sort of trial period."

  "What would you do, Lillian?" Barbara lifted her gaze, her blue eyes dark and haunted with uncertainty.

  "That isn't a fair question." She laughed briefly in surprise. "I hope that I would do what I felt in my heart was right."

  "Yes, of course." She turned away, a little dispirited.

  "That isn't an adequate answer, I know," Lillian murmured. "It must be very difficult for you. But I don't trust myself to be sufficiently impartial to give you more specific advice."

  "You have been very understanding as it is." Barbara meant that very sincerely. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want me for a daughter-in-law. I certainly haven't made a very good impression, considering my behavior tonight."

  "I was young once," Lillian reminded her. "It may be hard to believe, but it's true." Her brown eyes held a gently twinkling light.

  Barbara smiled. "I find it very easy to believe, because you are still very young in many ways."

  "Now you have made an excellent impression." Lillian laughed with a soft warmth.

  "I meant it," Barbara insisted, not wanting the woman to think she was attempting to flatter her. "I didn't say it just to—"

  "I know you didn't," Lillian assured her quickly. "If you feel up to it, we should return to the party before our guests begin speculating on the cause of our absence.

  Barbara wished there was a way she didn't have to return at all, which, of course, was impossible. Thanks to the older woman's quiet understanding, her nerves were in better shape, although she wasn't certain how much her shattered poise could withstand.

  "Yes. Todd will be wondering where I am," she agreed with the suggestion.

  Exiting the house through the veranda doors, Barbara was immediately enveloped in the noise of the party. The music and laughing voices hammered at her ears. Lillian paused beside her while Barbara searched the crowd of faces. Someone called to Lillian and she excused herself to resume her duties as hostess. At almost the same moment, Barbara saw Todd separate himself from a small group and walk toward her.

  "I've been looking for you," he accused gently and took her hand to pull her to his side. "The last time I saw you, you were dancing with J.R. Then you simply disappeared. Where were you? Powdering your nose?" He kissed the side of her hair, nestling her inside the crook of his arm.

  Todd offered her the perfect excuse, but honesty wouldn't permit her to take it. "Your mother and I were talking." She paused a pulse beat. "She rescued me from Jock."

  He was still for an instant, every muscle tensed. Barbara lifted her gaze to his face and found him staring at a distant point. She glanced in the same direction.

  Jock was standing by the punch bowl, looking back at the two of them. His hard gaze fell as he partially turned his head. A muscle flexed in his cheek from a sudden clenching of his jaw; then he was downing the contents of a glass and turning to ladle more punch into it.

  "Let's dance." Todd didn't give her a chance to refuse as he escorted her to the area of the veranda where other couples were swaying to the music coming from the speaker system.

  Held close in his arms, Barbara felt gently protected. Todd's undemanding embrace was a haven for her storm-tossed emotions. She relaxed under his comforting hold, no longer needing to be on guard against harm.

  "Is he getting to you?" Todd murmured near her ear.

  Barbara released a long sigh. "Jock always could. I think you made a mistake when you brought this stray home, Todd."

  "Mmm." he made the negative sound against her hair. "I couldn't let you keep wandering around so lost and alone. You need someone to look after you."

  Was that what she needed? Once Barbara had thought she just wanted someone to care about her. Now she wasn't so sure. Her glance strayed to the punch bowl. Jock was still there, the glass cup in his hand, watching them with hard amber eyes.

  Chapter Eight

  AROUND MIDNIGHT the party began to wear itself out. A few had already gone home. Although the rest still lingered, their voices were subdued and the music quieter. They had separated into groups without much mingling going on between them. Barbara knew the party was on the verge of breaking up, and she was glad.

  "Mother has brought out some coffee. Would you like some?" Todd asked.

  Barbara glanced to see Lillian setting a coffee service on the buffet table. For once, Jock wasn't in the vicinity of the punch bowl, a place he had haunted since their dance. She looked back at Todd, her bulwark that evening.

  "Yes, coffee would be great," she agreed and he led her to the table.

  As he started to pour them each a cup of coffee, Ramon and Connie Morales approached them. "We are leaving now," Ramon announced. "We wished to say goodbye."

  "I'm glad you came, both of you." Barbara's smile was stiff from being forced on her face all evening.

  "We enjoyed ourselves," Connie declared.

  "We never did have our dance, did we, Ramon?" Barbara remembered, and voiced it unconsciously.

  "You did not seem in the mood to dance later," he replied. Did his dark gaze linger on her a little too wisely before he turned to Todd? "Barbara is a lovely woman. You must be proud of her, Todd."

  "I am," h
e stated. "And I have already discovered how lovely she is."

  "Wrong, little brother." With animal quietness, Jock appeared at her side. His hand hooked her waist to pull her against his hip. "I discovered her first. That means she belongs to me." There was a possessive ring in his voice that carried over the veranda, silencing conversations.

  The hard imprint of his length burned down her side. The onslaught of heat made her weak and shaky inside, but the awareness of curious eyes watching gave Barbara the strength to struggle. She pushed at his hard stomach.

  "You're making a scene, Jock," she protested.

  "Why? Do you think they haven't noticed that I haven't been able to take my eyes off you all evening? Or the way you kept looking for me? You are mine, regardless of what that ring on your finger is supposed to represent," he jeered.

  His warm breath washed her face with a potent mixture of fruit and alcohol. "You're drunk," Barbara accused in a hopeless attempt to negate his statement.

  "Am I?" Keeping an arm around her, Jock placed a hand along the side of her neck, jamming his thumb under the point of her chin and forcing it up. The pressure of his grip was barely controlled. "Drinking is supposed to dull the senses. So why am I so keenly aware of the fragrance of your hair, the taste of your breath and the feel of your body against mine?"

  Denied the ability to swallow or speak, Barbara couldn't reply. The hand at the back of her waist made a sensual exploration of her lower spine.

  Jock went on, "If I were stone-cold sober, I'd still want to carry you off into the night the way I—"

  "J.R.—" Stepping forward, Todd laid an admonishing hand on his brother's forearm to loose the fingers that gripped Barbara's throat.

  In a shrugging movement, Jock released his grip and attempted to knock away Todd's restraining hand, but his swinging arm accidentally struck Todd's chin, drawing a muffled sound of surprise and unconscious pain. Todd rubbed his chin, a stunned frown creasing his forehead as he stared at Jock.

  "Todd, I—" Jock's taut voice seemed to come from some deep cavernous well within him, tortured and angry.

  "It's all right. It was just an accident," Todd denied the need to apologize.

  White-lipped, Jock stared at him for another second before pivoting and leaving the veranda with long, reaching strides. Barbara's hand was at her throat where his hand had been, feeling the indentation his digging fingers had left behind and attempting to ease the pain they had left. She watched Jock enter the house, slamming the glass-paned door so that it rattled. Todd moved to her side.

  "Are you all right?" She looked up, filled with blame for what happened.

  "It didn't hurt," Todd insisted, taking his hand away from his chin. "Not that much. It just surprised me, that's all."

  A movement in her side vision reminded Barbara of the presence of Ramon and Connie Morales. She turned, apologizingly guiltily, "I'm sorry this happened. I—"

  "It was inevitable," Ramon responded, smiling gently. "It is sad when two brothers fall in love with the same woman."

  Love? Barbara questioned that in her mind, but she said nothing.

  "Don't feel badly," Connie offered. "Everyone regrets that this happened, including Jock. It's best forgotten."

  "Yes," Ramon agreed. "This time we will say good-night."

  The departure of the older couple began a general exodus of all the other guests. Barbara stayed at Todd's side to bid them all good-night, but she was just as anxious to leave the veranda as they were.

  When they were alone, Todd put an arm around her and suggested, "We never did have our coffee. Would you like that cup now? We can sit down and unwind for a while. In one way or another, it's been a trying evening. You could do with some relaxing."

  "I think I'll pass on the coffee," Barbara refused. "I'd rather go to my room. I—"

  "You don't have to explain," Todd interrupted and kissed the corner of her mouth. "You'd rather be alone. I can understand that."

  "This was supposed to be our engagement party and your fiancée is running off to hide the instant the last guest leaves," Barbara sighed. "Maybe we should call this whole thing off, Todd. This can't be the way you wanted it."

  "It isn't, but I have a lot of patience. Good night." He gave her an affectionate push toward the glass-paned doors.

  "Aren't you coming?" Barbara paused.

  "Not right away." He shook his head and moved to the buffet table.

  Barbara watched him pour a cup of coffee from the insulated service, then turned to enter the house. Passing through the informal family room, she walked into the hall that led to the foyer. It took her past the door to a small den. Usually the door was closed. This time it was standing open. Her gaze was drawn into the room.

  Jock was reclining in a wooden-armed chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. An empty glass was in his hand, and his hair was rumpled as if by raking fingers. While Barbara watched with helpless compulsion, Jock partially turned away from the door to reach for something on a table beside him.

  As he squared around in the chair, she saw a whiskey bottle in his hand. He started to tip the bottle to fill the glass; then an unpleasant smile pulled at his mouth. Instead of filling the glass, Jock set it aside and took a swig straight from the bottle.

  Not conscious of making a sound, Barbara nonetheless became the object of his slicing gaze. His features seemed to harden into bronze, smooth and emotionless except for topaz flames in his brown eyes. Uncoiling from the chair, he strode toward the door, and Barbara took a step backward. His mouth slanted in harsh mockery as he reached out and slammed the door shut in her face.

  Shaken, she turned away to move to the stairwell in the foyer. His action made her feet all the more to blame for what had happened that night. Sleeping wasn't easy.

  IT WAS PAST MIDMORNING when Barbara came down the stairs. The few hours of sleep she had got had not left her feeling rested. The party was a perfect excuse for having slept so late, but Barbara knew Todd had probably been up earlier—and Jock, too. Everyone in the household except herself. Which meant if she had breakfast, it would be alone. Sighing, she turned into the living room, using it as a shortcut to the dining room where she knew a pot of coffee would be warming.

  As she started toward the archway, she heard Jock's voice raised in anger. "I'm too old to be slapped on the hand, mother. Just stay out of it!" Lillian murmured a response that Barbara couldn't hear, but Jock's reply was plain. "I don't need you to tell me what is right and proper. And for God's sake quit shouting!"

  Barbara hesitated a minute. When she heard the door leading from the dining room to the kitchen open and close, she presumed Jock had left and she started forward again. At least she would be able to have a cup of coffee with Lillian.

  As she rounded the archway, Barbara saw Jock, not Lillian, seated at the table. His elbows were resting on the polished surface, his forehead cradled in his hands. He was wearing the same clothes he'd had on the previous night. Which indicated to Barbara that he'd slept in them, probably passing out in the den.

  A hand that had been shielding his eyes came down to circle a tall glass on the table in front of him. His gaze swept up to stab at Barbara.

  "Quit hovering in the doorway," he grumbled. "Come in and have your breakfast. That's what you were going to do, wasn't it?"

  "I thought Lillian was here." Barbara hesitated a fraction of a second longer before entering the room and walking to the coffee service.

  "She's in the kitchen." Jock didn't move from his position. His mouth twitched cynically as Barbara walked to the table with her coffee. "You'll have to settle for my company." The chair leg scraped the tile floor as she pulled it out, and Jock winced. "Be a little more quiet, please."

  "Hangover?" Barbara commented a trifle maliciously.

  "It seems a mild description," he sighed.

  "What's that?" She glanced at the glass in front of him. The contents reminded her of tomato juice, but the liquid was much too frothy.

 
"A bit of the hair of the dog that bit me." He took a swallow from it and grimaced. "It's a concoction of Antonia's. I don't know what's in it, and I think I'm better off not knowing. It works, which is what counts."

  Sitting opposite him, Barbara didn't find Jock quite so dangerous this morning, despite his obvious ill temper. "Did you just get up?"

  "I came to a few minutes ago, which is what you were really asking." His upper lip curled sarcastically. She heard the scrape of day-old bristle as he rubbed his cheek.

  "My, but you are touchy this morning." Barbara discovered that she was gloating a bit over his physical suffering. She had gone through enough mental agony over him to find satisfaction in his pain. "Didn't the bottle help you forget?"

  The gibe drew his sharp glance, brown eyes shot with glittering sparks of gold. "It helped me forget I accidentally hit my own brother." Jock took a big swallow from the glass while Barbara uncomfortably studied the steam rising from her hot coffee. "Todd has already forgiven me for that." His voice was laced with cold amusement.

  "It was an accident. You didn't intend to hit him," she murmured.

  "No, I didn't intend to, but if it had been reversed, I would have slugged him on general principles. But not Todd." Jock paused, drawing a deep breath. "He's forgotten. And thanks to my old friend Jack Daniels, so have I."

  Barbara sipped at her coffee, blue eyes studying him over the rim of her cup. Strong, sun-browned fingers were massaging a point in the center of his forehead. She suspected that his head was pounding with a thousand sledgehammers. He had to be feeling very rocky.

  "Drinking doesn't solve anything, Jock," she commented.

  "No, it didn't put you out of my mind," he agreed, lifting his gaze to lock it to hers. "In fact, it only made the memories sharper."

  His remark triggered a whole flood of memories to drown Barbara in a time when Jock's nearness had meant ecstatic bliss. She struggled to the surface, breaking free of his gaze to clutch the handle of her coffee cup more tightly.