A Beauty Uncovered

“Your shirt...” Her voice drifted off.

He felt her fingertips gently brush the puckered skin along his neck before straightening his shirt collar. It must’ve flipped up when he took his suit coat off earlier. The innocent touch sent a jolt of heat through his body. It was so simple, so unplanned, and yet it was the first time a woman had touched his scars.

His foster mother had often kissed and patted his cheek, and nurses had applied medicine and bandages after various reconstructive procedures, but this was different. As a shiver ran down his spine, it felt different, as well.

Without thinking, he brought his hand up to grasp hers. Sam gasped softly at his sudden movement, but she didn’t pull away when his scarred fingers wrapped around her own. He was glad. He wasn’t ready to let go. The pleasurable surge that ran up his arm from her touch was electric. His every nerve lit up with awareness, and he was pretty certain she felt it, too. Her dark brown eyes were wide as she looked at him, her moist lips parted seductively and begging for his kiss.

He slowly drew her hand down, his eyes locked on hers. Sam swallowed hard and let her arm fall to her side when he finally let her go. “Much better,” she said, gesturing to his collar with a nervous smile. She held up the flash drive in her other hand. “I’ll get this printed for you, sir.”

“Call me Brody,” he said, finding his voice when the air finally moved in his lungs again. He might still be her boss, but suddenly he didn’t want any formalities between them. He wanted her to say his name. He wanted to reach out and touch her again. But he wouldn’t.

Sam looked away to glance down at the pink and crystal watch on her delicate wrist. Brody couldn’t help but notice how every detail about her was so...sparkly. Her watch was simply the latest piece. The large cocktail ring on her right hand made her earrings look demure. The stitching on her silk blouse reflected the light as did the glitter that seemed to be embedded in her pink eye shadow. Her heels had a pattern of sequins and stones across the toe shaped like a daisy. Even the buttons on her sweater looked like dime-sized diamonds.

He wasn’t used to that. His sister, Julianne, was feminine, but she was also raised in a house full of boys. She could hold her own and very rarely, if ever, sparkled. Most of the time, she was actually covered in sculpting mud from her pottery.

“You’re going to be late for your executive meeting, Brody.”

His name coming from her lips sounded wonderful to his ears, but he couldn’t dwell on it. He looked down at his own watch, which was expensive, painstakingly accurate, but not at all flashy. She was right. He reluctantly took the file out from under his arm and held it up as he backed away. “Thanks.”

Returning to the safety of his office, he closed the door and flopped his back against the solid wood. He took his first deep breath in five minutes, the scent of her perfume in his lungs. It made his head swim, the blood rushing from his extremities to fuel his desire with a restless ache he’d grown accustomed to over the years.

No woman, sparkly or otherwise, had ever deliberately touched his scars like that. With every fiber of his being, he wanted her to do it again.

Three

The house was empty. It always was when Brody came home. At least as far as people were concerned. He hung his overcoat on the hook by the garage entrance, tossed his laptop bag onto the kitchen table and whistled loudly.

His answer came in the form of excited clicks of toenails on the hardwood floor and thumps down the stairs. A few moments later, a large golden retriever rounded the corner and bounded straight for him. Brody braced himself as the dog stood up onto her hind legs and placed her paws on his chest. Normally she met him at the door, so she must’ve been sound asleep on her giant beanbag pillow upstairs.

He leaned down to let her lick him and scratched gently behind her ears. “Hey there, Chris. Did you have a good day with Peggy?”

The dog jumped down and danced around his feet, her tail wagging enthusiastically. Chris was a very happy dog and a great companion for Brody. It was impossible for him to sulk with her around. His foster sister, Julianne, had gotten the puppy for him as a birthday present three years ago. She decided that he needed a hot blonde in his life, so he named her after sexy pop singer Christina Aguilera as a joke.

Admittedly, she had been a great gift. She kept Brody company in his big empty house. His housekeeper, Peggy, walked and cared for her during the day, and the dog occasionally stayed with Agnes if Brody had to travel. It wasn’t much of a burden. Everyone loved Chris.

“Did Peggy feed you dinner yet?”

Chris darted over to her empty bowl and stared up expectantly. Brody looked down into the dog’s big brown eyes and knew she’d never admit it, even if she’d already eaten. She was a canine garbage disposal. “Here you go,” he said, filling her bowl with her favorite kibble. “I wonder what Peggy left for me to eat?”

He had a good guess. Tonight, the air was filled with the spicy scent of Mexican food.

Peggy arrived after he left for work and was gone before he came home. She kept his place tidy, took care of Chris, handled the laundry that didn’t go to the cleaners and did all his grocery shopping and cooking. Peggy was an excellent cook. She made a pot roast so good it could make you cry. It was even better than Molly’s, although he wouldn’t admit to that even if one of his brothers had him in a headlock.

Peggy had worked for him for five years, but Brody wasn’t entirely sure what she looked like. There was a copy of her driver’s license photo in her file from her background check, but few people actually looked like their pictures. Agnes had interviewed her, so he’d never met Peggy in person. All he knew was that she could deal with his idiosyncrasies, and that made her perfect.

Brody tossed his suit coat over the stool at the kitchen bar and looked for the note Peggy left him every night. He’d bought her nice stationery with an embossed “P” on the front and she’d opted to use it for her daily communications with him.

He found it sitting beside a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen island. He popped one in his mouth and groaned. That woman deserved a raise. He chewed as he flipped open the card.

There’s enchilada casserole in the oven. Picked up your favorite beer at the store today. It’s in the fridge. New sheets on the bed. Mail on your desk. Chris has eaten dinner, don’t let her fool you. You also got a package from your brother.—Peggy

A package from his brother? Frowning, Brody set down the card, went to the fridge for a bottle of microbrew and snatched up another cookie. He carried both of them down the hallway into his study with Chris quick on his heels. On his desk was a stack of various bills, junk mail and a large brown box. The label said it was from his foster brother Xander.

Brody had gone to live with Ken and Molly Eden when he was eleven, only a few months after his father had attacked him. He grew up on their Christmas tree farm in Connecticut with their daughter, Julianne, and a list of other foster children. He considered the Edens and the three other boys that remained on the farm—Wade, Xander and Heath—his true family. Xander and his younger brother, Heath, had come to the farm after their parents were both killed in a car accident. Xander was in the same grade as Brody, just a few months younger. He was currently a Connecticut congressman living in D.C.

He ignored the mail and went straight to the package. It wasn’t his birthday. It was October and far too early for a Christmas present. There was no reason he should be getting a box from Xander, so it was a mystery. Until he ripped the brown paper away to reveal a picture of an inflatable woman.

The torture of brothers never ended. Neither miles nor years would get them off his back about his love life. He knew it would be even worse if they ever learned the truth of it. Brody dropped the box onto his desk and went for his phone.

“This is Langston,” Xander answered.

“You know,” Brody began, skipping the small talk. “I expect this kind of crap from Heath, but not you. You’re supposed to be the sensible, non-controversial one.”

“At the office, absolutely. But the rest of the time, I’m your brother and it is fully within my rights to give you grief about your love life, or lack thereof.”

“You have no room to talk, Xander. When was the last time you actually went on a date?”

“I took Annabelle Hamilton to a reception last week.”

Brody chuckled and sat back on the edge of his desk. “A political fund-raiser?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Doesn’t count. When was the last time you went on a date where you didn’t talk about politics, attend a political event or leave your date stranded alone while you talked to some lobbyist that came up to your table?”

There was a long silence before his brother spoke. “I reject the unreasonable boundaries you’ve placed on my love life. The life of a single congressman is complicated.” Xander said the words with his official man-in-power voice, as though he were addressing a congressional committee.

“That’s what I thought. You should’ve kept that doll for yourself.”

Xander laughed, turning from his phone to say something to someone else. Despite the late hour, he was still at the office. Xander was always at the office.

“Got someone with you?” Brody asked.

“One of my congressional interns. He’s leaving for the night and reminding me about my early appointment tomorrow. I have to give some VIPs from my district a tour of the Capitol building.”

Brody settled into the brown leather loveseat in his office. Chris immediately jumped up beside him, curling up to lie down with her head in his lap. His free hand went to rub her ears. “It’s awfully late to still be at the office. I’d hate to work for you. You’re a mean boss.”

“Not as mean as you are. At least I speak face-to-face with my employees instead of barking at them over an intercom.”

“I pay them well for the inconvenience of dealing with me,” Brody argued.

“That’s fair, I suppose. Mine don’t get paid. It’s the beauty of government internships. I can work their idealistic hearts to death for free so when they graduate college, they will be jaded and fully prepared for a job in public service.”

“You sound run down, Xander. Are you sure you’re up for a campaign and another term?”

“I’ve just had a long day. I don’t have much free time. And I know that both of us aren’t the best at making time to date. Which is why I sent that lovely plastic woman to you. It’s secretly an invitation to a fund-raiser my party is having next week. If I sent you a card, I knew you’d ignore it, but that doll got you on the phone.”

Of course. There was always something behind it. He would’ve ignored an invitation. And he’d ignore this one, too, after he hid it away where Peggy wouldn’t find it and faint. “I’ll mail a check.”

“I don’t want you to mail a check, Brody. I want you to come.”

Oh, yeah, because socializing at a cocktail party with a bunch of strangers was his idea of a good time. He’d jump right on the next train from Boston. Xander knew it, too, so there had to be more to the story than he was telling. “What’s her name?”

“Why would you—?”

“You’re as transparent as Mom.”

Xander sighed heavily into the phone receiver. “Her name is Briana Jessup. Dr. Briana Jessup. I met her a few weeks ago. She’s a plastic surgeon that specializes in reconstructive surgery. She spends several weeks a year in third world countries helping disfigured children.”

Brody listened to his brother talk, but the more words that came out of his mouth, the more irritated he got. “I don’t know which is worse. Thinking you’re fixing me up on a date again or trying to lure me to another doctor.”

“It’s just social,” Xander corrected. “I thought you might be more comfortable with a woman if you knew she had...” His voice trailed away as though he weren’t quite sure how to say it. Xander was always on a mission to find the right way to say things. It made him a great politician. But dealing with him as a brother could be frustrating when everything he said was polished to a point of near insincerity.

“Seen worse?” Brody suggested.

“You know what I mean, man. Don’t get offended.”

Brody took a sip of his beer. He understood what his brother was doing. It wasn’t a bad idea. A woman who had experience with severe injuries like his might not react so negatively to it. She might even touch him, although it might be more for professional curiosity than attraction. It was certainly a better choice than the last woman Xander tried to set him up with. “I’m not offended. I’m just not interested in starting up something with this doctor of yours.”

And he wasn’t. Maybe if Xander had asked him a week ago. But now, his mind was overrun with thoughts of one particular woman touching him. A sunny blonde with luscious curves and an affinity for pink.

“Then are you still upset about the thing with Laura? It’s been three years.”

Brody chuckled into the phone. “Why would I still be upset about Laura? Just because you set me up with a woman that pretended to like me long enough to steal my personal information and charge a hundred-thousand dollars on my credit cards...? I mean, after three years that would be petty of me.”

Xander sighed. “You know I’m sorry about that. She seemed like she really liked you, and I hate that she stole from you. But this other lady is different. I think you’d really like her.”

“I’m too preoccupied for something like that right now. I have my mind on...other things.”

“Are you seeing someone?” Xander asked, his voice laced with an edge of incredulity.

“No,” Brody said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But you’re interested in someone, aren’t you?”

That, Brody couldn’t argue with. He was interested. He didn’t know if that would make any difference in the end, but he was. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam and what it would feel like to touch her.

“I suppose you could say that....”

* * *

Sam slammed back another shot of espresso from the coffee shop in the lobby, but she wasn’t sure it would help. The first four hadn’t. She was still exhausted. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Her mind kept spinning with the previous day’s developments.

She had started Wednesday irritated with her boss. Brody was demanding, rude and thoughtless of others. By the time she went home, she was intrigued by him. More than that—aroused by him. When she wasn’t lying in bed fantasizing about touching him again, she was plagued with questions.

What happened to him? How long had he been like that? How could he live his life separated from other people? Wasn’t he lonely? Why was he so unpleasant?

The “fix-it gene” in Sam was alight with the need to get her hands on Brody’s life and put it right. It seemed a shame to her that he was hiding. He was a smart, successful and handsome man. He shouldn’t let his accident keep him from living a full life.

Sam eyed the door to his office. She wanted to march in there, grab him by the hand and drag him out into the sunlight. It would be good for him, she was certain.

Then she saw it. The door was ever so slightly ajar. It hadn’t quite latched earlier. That was odd. Brody was always very meticulous about shutting and locking the door. His mind must be on other things.

Or maybe it was a subtle invitation. A subconscious slip. Sam wasn’t a big believer in accidents. Everything happened for a reason. What if Brody wanted a fuller, more open life, but didn’t know where to start? She could help him. Maybe he knew that. Could this be his way of reaching out?

“Sam, could you get me that new distribution proposal?” Brody’s voice crackled over the speakerphone.

“Yes, sir.”

Sam grabbed the file out of her inbox and let her gaze wander between the silver drawer and the unlatched door. She wasn’t sure if Brody left it open on purpose, but she decided to take the opportunity fate, or Brody, had provided.

She quickly reached down for her purse and pulled out her compact. Her makeup was good. Her blond curls were swept back into a messy bun today. Her lip gloss was still shiny. She looked great.

Getting up from her seat, she tucked the file under her arm and gently tugged down at the hem of her sweater dress. She smoothed over her wide, patent leather belt before reaching out and grasping the doorknob. She didn’t have to turn it. The light pressure was enough to unlatch it completely and the door swung open.

Sam poked her head into the dark room, expecting Brody to start yelling at her at any moment, but there was nothing. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed a pinball machine to her left. Beside it was a Track and Field arcade game. Both of them flashed and blinked, lighting the corner of the dim room. Beyond that, she spied a seating area with plush, leather couches. A small kitchenette with a sink and a refrigerator.

In the corner were a universal weights machine and a treadmill. That explained those arms. She half expected to see a bed, but that was the only thing missing. He had his own little world behind these doors.

Taking a step inside, she found his desk to the right. It was a large U-shaped configuration with multiple monitors and computers. The first two screens she looked at displayed the feed from the lobby surveillance cameras. He had a good view of her at her desk, despite the grainy black-and-white feed. He was currently facing the other direction or he would’ve seen her approach his door and come into his office space.

Sam took a deep breath and closed the gap between them in a few steps. The hum of the multiple computers and the constantly running air-conditioning unit disguised the click of her heels across the marble floor.

When she was about a foot behind him, Sam paused, looking down at a large bowl of multicolored jelly beans on his desk, giving a bright pop to an otherwise monochromatic space. Her bravery was waning. But it was too late to turn back. He’d likely notice her making a quick escape. Instead, she decided to wait a moment and see if he finally turned around. Saying his name would probably send him three feet out of his chair.

Sam’s gaze drifted past his shoulder to the screen he was staring so intently at. At the top was the name “Tommy Wilder” with a long series of links and descriptions that were too small for her to read. She’d never heard of Tommy Wilder. Then she spied the screen beside it, where her own name was shown just as prominently. Was he doing some kind of background check on her?

She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. She was close enough to Brody now that the small sound caused him to immediately spin in his chair to face her.

His initial look of surprise quickly morphed into anger as his jaw locked and his eyes narrowed at her. He stood up in one fluid movement and Sam took an instinctive step backward.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked. “How did you get in here?”

Sam clutched the file to her chest and took another step back as he charged forward. “I brought the file you w-wanted. The door was open and I—”

“What? You thought I left it open for you?” he interrupted her shaky explanation.

Apparently her ideas about Brody subconsciously reaching out to her were woefully incorrect. “No, I...” She didn’t have a better explanation. She took another two steps back, pausing when she felt the press of cold metal on her back. A quick glance showed her she’d backed herself against the pinball machine. With Brody moving closer, she was pretty much trapped there to take her punishment.

“What did you see?” he asked, pointing to his computers. “Tell me,” Brody demanded, his booming voice amplified by the acoustics of the dark room.

Sam was wide-eyed with confusion. He was mad that she was in there, but somehow he seemed more concerned that she was spying on him. What did she see? Nothing important. What did it matter, anyway? She had a confidentiality agreement in place. She could’ve seen the truth about the Roswell crash site and the JFK assassination and she couldn’t tell anyone. “Just some names. My name. Nothing else.”

Brody crowded into her space, placing his hands on each side of the pinball machine as though he were playing to prevent her escape. His blue eyes were nearly black in the dim lighting as he leaned into her.

Even with the file between them, Sam could feel the heat of his body penetrating her clothes. The scent of his cologne crowded her, filling her lungs as she took a deep breath to calm herself.

Goodness, but he was tall. In her four-inch heels, she was almost looking him in the eye, their bodies aligning perfectly. Her heart started racing as she thought about reaching out and touching him. Her touch before had been fleeting, innocent, yet powerful. She craved that connection again. It was a ridiculously counterproductive thought, given the man was in a big enough rage to fire her, not kiss her.

Sam licked her lips, noting his gaze dropped down to watch, then came back up to look into her eyes. She had her share of experience with men, and she knew when a man wanted her. Sam was surprised, given all the barriers Brody had deliberately put between them, but it was clear. He wanted her. Yet he was holding back.

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