Matt's Family

HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

Celebrates its 20th Anniversary

Two decades of bringing you the very best in romance reading.

To recognize this important milestone, we’ve invited six very special authors—whose names you’re sure to recognize—to tell us how they feel about Superromance. Each title this month has a letter from one of these authors.

In 1992 Karen Young—whose foreword appears in this book—helped celebrate an earlier milestone in Superromance history. Her book, The Silence of Midnight, was the 500th Superromance published and won the RITA Award for Long Contemporary the following year. In her letter prefacing this book, Karen writes, “…Superromance, with its eclectic lineup each month, will not disappoint. I’m proud to be an author in this line.”

Matt’s Family by Lynnette Kent has a well-earned place in Superromance’s “eclectic lineup,” and offers readers a complex and compelling story of family dynamics.

It’s the second of a two-book series—THE BRENNAN BROTHERS—in which the relationship between two brothers is stretched to the limit by their feelings for one woman and their commitment to family and children.

Dear Reader,

I live near one of the largest army posts in the U.S.—Fort Bragg, North Carolina, home of the 82nd Airborne Division and the Special Operations Forces. My daughters attend school with kids who are here one year and gone the next…to Germany, to Japan, to Kentucky or Kansas or North Dakota. Our community is enhanced by the many talented people who come into the area for just a year or two and yet donate their time and energy to local causes. We always miss them when they get orders to move, and always hope that maybe one day they’ll come back.

As the wife of a career navy officer, I understand the commitment demonstrated by men and women in the armed forces, as well as the devotion required from their families. Military service is not an easy job, but it is an honorable and invaluable one.

The hero of Matt’s Family, Major Matt Brennan, comes from a long line of military men, and he is worthy of his heritage. He’s given five years of his life—and those of his wife and their daughter—to the service of his country. Can he consider his duty done?

More important, can Matt find a way to bond with a little girl he didn’t know he had? And can he convince his wife that their marriage isn’t merely duty, but the heart and soul of his very life?

I hope you enjoy Matt and Kristin’s story, the second of THE BRENNAN BROTHERS books. I love getting letters from readers—please feel free to write me c/o P.O. Box 1795, Fayetteville, NC 28314.

All the best,

Lynnette Kent

Matt’s Family

Lynnette Kent

www.millsandboon.co.uk

FOREWORD BY KAREN YOUNG

Many thoughts come to mind when I consider my experience as a Superromance author. First and foremost is my delight in having the editorial freedom to write the kind of books that appeal to me. I have never underestimated the discernment and sophistication of Superromance readers. Consequently, I have come up with a few plots that featured some pretty strong elements, but they were stories that I felt touched the lives of the women who were reading them. Maybe a sister was married to an abusive husband, or a reader knew of a child who fell through the cracks in our foster care system. Maybe someone’s heart had been broken by an unfaithful husband. I’ve created characters who wrestled with those life crises—and more—and my editors at Superromance were always completely supportive in allowing me that creative freedom.

Also, as a Superromance author, I seem to need the additional length to fully develop a story once I’ve come up with an idea for a book. I have written shorter contemporary books, but I never really hit my stride as a writer until I had a larger “palette,” so to speak, to paint a picture with emotional depth as well as a strong plot. Superromance afforded me that opportunity.

Finally, I believe the women who comprise our audience of readers are far more sophisticated today than when the romance novel first appeared on the scene. Superromance recognized that growth on the part of our readership early on and it was reflected in the quality of the books offered each month. So, whether your taste as a reader runs to a plot that makes you laugh or one that makes you cry or one that makes you think or one that deftly manages to do all of the above, Superromance with its eclectic lineup each month will not disappoint.

I’m proud to be an author in this line.

To the military wives I’ve known, and those I haven’t: Whatever it took, you always held things together somehow.

And to Mary Bacon, the wife and mother of military men: You’ve served your country and your children with honor and love.

Thank you.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Christmas Day, 1996

MATT BRENNAN PARKED on the curb in front of the small, neat house and sat for a minute, trying to relax.

He was finally home. Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, U.S.A. Five years late, true. But at least he’d made it. Two of the soldiers captured with him on that covert mission in Africa would never see home again.

And inside this robin’s-egg-blue house was the reason Matt had come back. Sweet brown eyes and an easy laugh. Smooth, tanned skin, sun-streaked hair, gentle hands. A woman willing to listen, to share, to face life beside him wherever it led.

“Kristin.”

Her name had brought light to five years of darkness. Saying it aloud now built up a fierce need inside him. He’d waited so long. But he didn’t have to wait another minute.

Opening the car door, he stepped onto the pavement, once again aware of the unfamiliar sensation of shoes after spending half a decade in a tropical prison, barefoot. A soft, damp breeze blew across his face, and he closed his eyes for a second to appreciate the moisture. His life had been dry for so long.

No more. Grinning like a fool, with his heart pounding in his chest, Matt crossed the spiky grass to the front door of the house. Kristin didn’t know he was coming—none of his family knew, yet, that he was alive. The Army could keep secrets very well, when it wanted to.

His finger shook as he pressed the doorbell button. He closed his fists at his sides as he waited, braced against the wild excitement that kept stealing his breath. After so long…

The door opened. Looking over her shoulder, laughing at something behind her, Kristin didn’t see him for a second. In the time it took her to face him, his world shattered.

She held a baby in the bend of her arm, a little girl in a pink gown with a wisp of silver hair caught up in a pink bow.

If he could have moved, Matt would have left before a word was said. But he was frozen in place. And so the woman he loved—Kristin, his fiancée—turned to see him standing at her door.

Her brown eyes went round, and her lips parted on a gasp. The color left her cheeks in a rush. Staring at him, she didn’t appear to notice when the baby in her arms pulled at a strand of her bright gold hair.

“Matt?” No sound filled in the word. “Oh my God.” This time he heard her whisper. “Matt?”

Joy flashed in her face, bright as fireworks. And just as fleeting. Shock, dismay, even fear, followed immediately.

He cleared his throat. “Hi, Kris.”

The patter of bare feet on tile filled the paralyzed silence. A child peeked around Kristin’s waist, another tow-haired little girl, several years older than the baby.

“Mommy, who’s that?”

Kristin’s left hand dropped to rest on the girl’s head. In the pale winter light, Matt caught the flash of a ring on her third finger.

“This is…” Her voice died again.

“Kristin?” A man’s voice called from the back of the house. “Who’s ringing the doorbell at 8:00 a.m. on Christmas morn—”

The skin on the back of his neck crawled as Matt recognized the voice. He dragged his gaze away from Kristin’s horrified face as his brother stepped up behind her. “Hey, Luke. Merry Christmas.”

Luke’s hand—also wearing a wedding ring—closed over Kristin’s shoulder. “Matt?” Welcome shone in his gray eyes, in his wide smile. And then faded away.

Matt tried for a grin. “That’s right. Uh…surprise?”

His younger brother didn’t laugh at the feeble joke. Luke glanced at Kristin, instead, and at the baby she held. He looked down at the older girl for a long moment. And then raised his eyes to Matt’s. His next comment went straight to the heart of the matter. “Dear God, Matt. We’re in a hell of a mess now!”

CHAPTER ONE

May, 2000

MATT WOKE UP as his wife of almost a year slipped out of bed and left their room. He squinted at the clock. Two-thirty, later than usual. She was often out of bed by midnight or one.

Staring up at the ceiling, he listened to Kristin move through the house. Minutes passed, then half an hour. The microwave beeped—she’d made herself some tea. A faint glow at the doorway indicated she’d switched on a lamp.

So here they were again, him lying in the dark, waiting, while she sat in the kitchen downstairs, thinking. About what?

Did she think about the same things he did? Did she wonder how their life could be so good…yet so wrong? How two people could live together and, at the same time, be so far apart?

He rolled to his side, facing the door. He’d made love with Kris just a few hours ago. Tonight, as always, she’d given him more pleasure than any man had a right to know. She gave him everything, including her own satisfaction. Her whispers, her sighs, the shudders that ran through her body as he touched and kissed and moved—every reaction conveyed Kristin’s delight in what he did.

But she never asked, dammit. Never demanded. Never abandoned herself, selfish—even helpless—in her need for him. After nearly a year together, sex seemed almost like a contest to see who could please whom the most. A quid pro quo kind of experience—neither of them relaxed enough to simply take.

Matt knew he never felt really at ease—because he never knew what Kris was thinking anymore. Was she afraid to tell him what she wanted because she thought he would resent the implication that he’d failed? Or was sex something she did because she saw it as her responsibility?

Was the whole marriage simply a matter of responsibility? A debt to be paid?

He closed his eyes at the painful grip of that thought. The idea that Kris had married him because she owed him hurt too much to consider.

In the hallway, her footsteps padded lightly toward their door. She eased back into bed, barely disturbing the mattress or the covers. If he wanted, Matt could pretend he hadn’t known she was gone.

That wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to take her again—make love to his wife until she was so crazy she couldn’t think. Love her until she forgot about loving him back, until she just accepted everything he had to give, until she came apart in his arms and cried out his name. Then he’d know for sure she trusted him, needed him. Wanted him.

But when he finally turned over, he heard her soft, even breaths. She’d fallen asleep. He could wake her, and she would welcome him. Duty, or desire? Matt had no way to know. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to find out.

And so he just laid his hand lightly on the blanket covering her hip, and forced himself back to sleep.

“THAT’S PRETTY, Mommy!”

“Thanks, Jenny.” Kristin patted her younger daughter’s blond head and stepped back from the counter to survey the results of her morning’s work—a three-layer chocolate cake, iced with butter-cream frosting and decorated with an American flag. “I think so, too.”

The real question was whether her mother-in-law would agree. For the first time in eight years, Matt’s mother had allowed Kristin to contribute to the family’s Memorial Day picnic menu. A bowl of potato salad waited in the refrigerator, as picture perfect as she could make it. Her cake looked professional, if she did say so herself. Surely even Mrs. Brennan would be pleased.

Running footsteps sounded in the family room. Eight-year-old Erin dashed into the kitchen, sun-streaked hair flying. Her perpetual shadow trotted close behind. Buster—a dog of mixed ancestry—was nearly as tall as Erin when he stood on his hind legs, and weighed more. He followed her as far as he was allowed and slept at her feet every night, a long-haired, black-and-white bodyguard.

“Hey, Jenny, look what I found under my bed!” Erin waved a purple stuffed toy.

“That’s mine.” Jenny climbed off the stool at the counter. “Give me my dragon back.”

“I found it, I get to keep it.” Erin held the dragon above her head.

Jenny jumped, but couldn’t reach. “Mommy, tell her to give me my dragon that Daddy got for me!”

Kristin picked up the cake and held it protectively. “Erin, give Jenny her dragon. You’ve got one of your own.” As she pivoted toward the other side of the kitchen, a warm, furry form wrapped itself between her ankles.

“Buster!” She shuffled her feet, trying to step free. The dog gave a loud yelp as her bare heel came down on his paw. Kristin jumped, shifted her weight…and lost control of the cake. With a slurp, the plate tilted inward, pressing the American flag into the front of her shirt.

Jenny gasped. “Mommy, you hurt Buster!” She broke into tears.

Kristin stood frozen, eyes closed in horror, hands holding the plate against her chest.

Jenny cried louder, working up to a real tantrum. Kristin finally jerked herself into motion and eased the cake back onto the plate. “Hush, Jenny, love. Let’s look at Buster’s paw, okay?” She set the plate on the counter, then knelt in front of the dog, who immediately licked at her shirt. “Which paw did I get, Buster? This one?” He wagged his black-and-white plume of a tail as she checked all four feet. “He’s fine, Jenny. Don’t worry.”

Erin stared at her from the end of the counter. “Mommy, you’ve got icing all over you!”

Kristin sighed. “I know.” The top of the cake looked like a bomb crater. So much for her perfect Memorial Day dessert.

She was whipping icing and wiping tears out of her eyes when Matt came through the door. “Hey, Kris—whoa! Did a hurricane blow through?”

Kristin glanced at his immaculate uniform, around the wrecked kitchen, at the ruined cake and her filthy shirt, and blinked back more tears.

“I had a problem with the cake, that’s all.”

He frowned. “I thought you were making potato salad.”

“I did.” She added more sugar to the bowl. “I said I’d bring dessert, too.”

“That doesn’t leave much for anybody else to cook.”

She shook her head. “Of course it does. Sarah and Luke are bringing a green salad and baked beans. Your mother and dad are supplying the hamburgers—”

Matt raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Okay, okay. I just meant you shouldn’t work so hard.” He skimmed a dollop of icing off her neck and sucked it off his finger. “Mmm. You taste wonderful.” The kiss he placed under her ear sent a sweet shiver down her spine. “Are the girls ready?”

“Not yet. I’ll be finished in a few minutes.”

“I’ll get them dressed.” He headed for the stairs. Kristin thought about calling him back—the girls weren’t exactly cooperating today. But they liked going to their grandparents’ house. Maybe they wouldn’t put up a fuss. If they did, Matt could handle it. Right?

Thirty minutes later, with a smooth, plain coat of icing on the cake, Kristin hurried down the hallway to the bedrooms. She peeked into Jenny’s and found it empty. But the outfit she’d ironed earlier this morning—the one Matt’s mother had given them—still lay on the bed. What was Jenny wearing?

Erin’s nice clothes lay crumpled on the floor of her room. She picked them up. “Girls? Matt? Where are you?”

“We’re in the bathroom, Kris.” His voice sounded tired.

She pushed open the door of the big yellow bathroom. Matt sat on the floor with his elbows propped on his bent knees, a spray bottle in one hand, a comb in the other. Facing him stood Erin and Jenny, wrapped in their towels, both with wet, tangled hair.

“What’s going on? Why aren’t you dressed?”

Matt ran a hand over his head, then simply looked at the girls. Erin stuck out her lower lip. “It hurts when he combs my hair.”

Kristin sighed. “Erin, you say it hurts when I comb your hair. We’re as gentle as we can be. Your hair has to be combed. Did you use the untangler spray?”

Saying nothing, Matt held up the bottle.

She took it from him. “Okay, I’ll spray it again. I’ll do your hair, Erin, and Matt can do Jenny’s. We only have a few minutes to get ready.”

But Jenny backed up against the vanity. “My hair hurts, too. And he got soap in my eyes.”

Jenny always complained of soap in her eyes when Matt was in charge of bath time. This wasn’t a real grievance. This was mutiny, plain and simple.

And the grimness in Matt’s face, a despair he was trying his best to hide, testified to the mutiny’s effect.

Kristin fought down a surge of irritation. “Well, we could stay home and let you both sit in your rooms with tangled hair. But that would disappoint Grandmom and Granddad, who are looking forward to seeing you.” She held out her hand to Matt.

He slapped the comb onto her palm. Getting neatly to his feet, he stepped by her to the door. “I’ll change clothes,” he said quietly. And was gone.

“I’ll comb hair.” Kristin turned Erin around with a firm hand. “And I don’t want to hear any complaints from either of you. We’re going to be late, as it is.”

And they were. By the time they got the girls settled in the car and fought beach traffic, they were a long, tense, forty minutes late.

Wishing the afternoon were already over, Matt parked the van in his parents’ driveway and released the door lock. As if they’d been freed from jail, Erin and Jenny ran through the grass and around the back of the house to the deck on the beach.

When he opened Kristin’s door, she took a deep breath and slid carefully to the ground, cradling the covered cake. Then she looked up at him somberly. “I’m sorry about the girls.”

His resentment melted. He smiled a little and set his hand along the angle of her jaw, stroking his thumb across her smooth cheek. “I’ll be okay.”

Eyes closed, she pressed her head into his palm for a second, then stepped away. “We’d better get inside.”

“If you say so.” Matt followed her toward the kitchen door, carrying the potato salad and appreciating the chance to watch Kristin from the back. Bright sunlight did great things for her soft tan and shiny hair. Her dark-blue sleeveless shirt showed off her arms, while white shorts and sandals left a nice length of her legs in view. The first time he’d seen her, he’d known she was the prettiest, sexiest girl he would ever meet. More than ten years later, he’d never encountered another woman who could make him change his mind.

His mother looked up in surprise as they stepped through the kitchen door. “I wondered what had happened to you. It’s after four-thirty.” She brushed at her silver bangs with a fingertip and stared at Kristin expectantly.

Matt stepped forward to run interference. He bent slightly to kiss Elena Brennan’s cheek. “Sorry, Mom. Sometimes the girls need more time than we think they will. How are you?”

“Well, thank you.” She took the bowl of potato salad out of his hands and placed it precisely on the counter. “Your father is on the deck with Luke and Sarah.”

Kristin came closer. “Where shall I put the cake?”

Elena arched her eyebrows. “Oh, I didn’t think you’d have time to make dessert. Let’s put yours over here beside mine.”

Kristin squeezed her eyes closed as she relinquished the plate. Matt didn’t see a problem with the nice, smooth icing…until his mother set Kristin’s cake next to her own berry-laden version. Suddenly, the white cake looked a little drab.

He put a hand on Kristin’s shoulder. “Anything else we can do, Mom?”

His mother smoothed her red slacks over her still-slim hips. “No, dear. I believe everything is just about ready. Why don’t you start the grill?”

“Sure.” He moved Kristin ahead of him. “Don’t worry about it,” he whispered in her ear as he opened the door onto the deck.

Looking back over her shoulder, she gave him a rigid smile. “Worry about what?”

Matt stared at her back as she walked outside. As difficult as his mother could be, Kris would never admit to being upset. That she couldn’t share something so obvious, so basically harmless, indicated a significant lack of trust.

Or was Kris hiding something so terrible she couldn’t share anything with him, in case the worst slipped out? What the hell would “the worst” be?

“Well, Matt, it’s about time you showed up.” Across the deck, his father sat beneath an umbrella, filling his pipe. “Your mother’s been wondering.”

“Getting two little girls ready for a party doesn’t always go smoothly, Dad.” He reached out to shake the Colonel’s hand as Kristin sat down on the glider nearby.

“Isn’t that the truth?” The man sitting in the chair to the Colonel’s left set down his drink.

Matt turned to face his brother’s wide grin. “Yeah—I’m always amazed at how long it takes.” They shook hands amiably enough, then Matt looked to Luke’s right and smiled at his new sister-in-law. “Hey, Sarah. How are you?”

“Wonderful.” Her clear, sunny expression reminded him of Kristin…back in the old days. “When I called this morning, your wife said you’d gone to work. It’s a holiday, remember?”

He eased down on the glider beside Kris and put his arm along the back, behind her shoulders. “Just paperwork. I get a lot done with nobody else there.”

The Colonel snorted as he lit his pipe. “It’s about time you gave up this recruiting nonsense, isn’t it? Get back to the real Army?”

“I’m still thinking things over, Dad.” Matt relaxed his clenched fist. “It’s a big decision now that I’ve got a family.”

“I’d imagine your commanding officer is wondering what you’re waiting for.” His father wouldn’t let go of his point.

“I haven’t heard anything from him.” Matt tapped Kristin on the shoulder. “Where’d the girls go?”

“They’re playing in the sand at the bottom of the steps,” she said, without meeting his eyes.

Luke sat forward in his chair. “Do I have time to take them for a walk before we eat?”

Matt pulled in a deep breath against the resistance he couldn’t extinguish. “Since I haven’t started the grill yet, I’d say you’ve got about twenty minutes.”

“That’ll be great.” Luke and Sarah crossed the deck arm in arm and descended the steps. “Hey, munchkins.” His words blew back on the wind from the sea. “Want to walk down by the waves?”

“Sure, Daddy!” Erin loved the ocean.

“Can you carry me, Daddy?” And Jenny loved her father.

The voices faded as the foursome approached the water. Matt sat still, waiting for feeling and function to come back to his brain.