Desiring the Reilly Brothers. Maureen Child
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Janet sighed and stood up. “Fine. I can’t talk you out of this. But you’d better call me. A lot.” “I will. Don’t worry.”
Of course, Janet would worry, Tina told herself as she came back from the memory. If she wasn’t so determined on her own course, maybe she would be worrying, too. Her gaze slid from the front porch to the driveway and the garage and the apartment over that garage.
Maybe, she told herself, Janet was right. Maybe this was a mistake.
But at least she was doing something. For the past five years, she’d felt as though she’d been standing still. Sure, her career was terrific and she had good friends and a nice house. But she didn’t have someone to love. And she needed that. Now, whether she was making the wrong move or not, at least she was moving.
That had to count for something.
“Of course,” she muttered, tearing her gaze from the apartment, “you’re not moving at the moment. And you’ve only got three weeks, Coretti—so don’t waste time.”
Grabbing her luggage from the trunk, she pulled up the handle and rolled the heavy case along the bumpy brick walk leading to the front door. The suitcase thumped against the four wooden steps and the wheels growled against the wide planked front porch.
When she unlocked the front door and stepped inside, Tina stopped in the foyer. The big front room was bright with sunshine streaming through the picture window. The air was cool, thanks to the air-conditioning her grandmother insisted on running even when she wasn’t home and a vase full of lemon-yellow roses scented the room. It was just as she remembered and for a moment or two, Tina just stood there, enjoying the sensation of being home again.
Until the frantic barks and yips cut into her thoughts and reminded her that she wasn’t entirely alone.
Closing the front door, she abandoned her suitcase and walked through the living room, into the kitchen and straight back through the mudroom to the back door.
Here, the noise was deafening. Tina chuckled as she fumbled with the deadbolt. Thumps and scrapes against the outside of the door blended with more high-pitched barking that had the same effect as fingernails scraping across a blackboard.
In self-defense, she whipped open the back door and the noisemakers tumbled in, as though they’d been balanced against the door. Which they probably had been. Instantly, the two little white puffballs leaped at Tina. What felt like dozens of tiny feet with needlelike claws clambered over her legs and feet.
Muddy paw prints decorated the legs of her pale green linen slacks, looking like smudged black lace. The two little dogs tumbled over each other in their quest to be the first one petted. The sniffing and licking continued until Tina gave up trying to calm them down and fell to the floor laughing.
“Okay, you guys, I’m glad to see you, too.” She tried to pet them but they wouldn’t stand still long enough. And, as if sitting on her lap wasn’t nearly good enough, both teacup poodles tried to dig their way inside her, squirming and pushing each other off Tina’s lap.
Muffin and Peaches, one a pale cream color and the other, well, the color of ripe peaches. Nana’s unimaginatively named, unclipped poodles were nuts about women and hated men. Which, Tina thought, put them pretty much in the same boat with a lot of Tina’s friends.
Tina on the other hand, didn’t hate men.
She didn’t even hate the one man she should have.
In fact, that one man was the real reason she’d come back to Baywater.
Oh, Nana had asked her to stay at the house and take care of “her girls” while the older woman and two of her friends were taking a tour of Northern Italy. But the timing of Nana’s trip and Tina’s private epiphany seemed destined by fate. It was as if the universe had grabbed Tina, given her a shake and said Here you go, girl. Go get what you want.
Because as happy as Tina was to do Nana a favor, there’d been another, more important reason for agreeing to come home for two weeks.
She wanted to get pregnant.
And the man she needed to get the job done was living here, over the garage.
Her ex-husband.
Brian Reilly.
Chapter Two
The two spoiled mutts sent up a racket the minute Brian pulled into the driveway. Scowling, he shut the engine off and shot a grim look toward the backyard where the little bastards were probably trying to scratch through the gate to get at him.
Shaking his head, he climbed out of the car and wondered again why the little dogs hated him. Maybe in a past life he’d been a dogcatcher or something and they could still smell it on him.
“Knock it off, you guys,” he bellowed, not expecting his shout to do a thing about shutting them up. And he wasn’t disappointed. If anything, the noise level climbed and the frantic urgency in their yips and high-pitched barks escalated.
One downside to living in the garage apartment at Angelina Coretti’s house was putting up with those dogs. But, it was the only downside as far as Brian was concerned.
Renting that small, one-bedroom apartment worked out well for both him and Angelina. The older woman liked having him around—knowing he was handy if she needed help. And he had privacy, no worries about losing his apartment when he was deployed for months at a time, and a sweet old lady who enjoyed cooking, to make him the occasional home-cooked dinner.
On the whole, a situation worth putting up with Muffin and Peaches.
And there was another good point to his living arrangements. Since Angelina was his ex-wife’s grandmother, Brian could keep a tenuous connection to Tina Coretti Reilly. It wasn’t much, and probably wasn’t real healthy, but Tina, even though they’d been divorced for five years now, was never too far out of his thoughts.
The barking got sharper, louder, as he stalked up the driveway toward the stairs at the side of the garage. Brian tossed another scowl at the whitewashed wooden gate and the hell hounds beyond. Then the back door opened and that scowl froze on his face.
It was as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. His guts twisted and a hard ball of something hot and needy and just a little pissed landed in the pit of his stomach.
“Judging by that expression,” Tina said, over the din of the dogs, “you’re not real happy to see me.”
Afternoon sunlight lit her up as brightly as if she’d been an actress standing at center stage. Her wide brown eyes danced with amusement. Her long, thick black hair hung down around her shoulders. She wore a pale green tank top that bared her tanned arms and chest, and he was only grateful that the gate was there, minimizing his view of her. He wasn’t at all sure he’d be able to take seeing miles of long, tanned leg.
“Tina.” He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. Damn it, if he was shaken to find her standing practically on top of him, he wouldn’t let her see it. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m here to take care of the girls while Nana’s in Italy.”
The girls being Muffin and Peaches.
“Angelina didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Any reason why she should?”
His eyes narrowed as he watched her. “Any reason why she shouldn’t?”
“Ah,” Tina said smiling, as she let the back door swing closed behind her. “Same ol’ Brian. Answer a question with a question. Stall for time.”
The dogs kept barking and he and Tina were shouting at each other just to be heard. His head was buzzing, brain racing. And he didn’t