Coming Undone
Page 11
“This is my brother, Adrian. Aid, this is Elise Sorenson, and apparently she’s already a fan.” Brody’s crooked smile put her at ease even though she knew her face was bright red.
“I . . . I’m so embarrassed! I didn’t know, and I don’t know if I should feel bad for not knowing or for having your music on and knowing you by sight. It’s not that I’ve never been around artists before.”
Adrian stepped forward and took her hand. He wasn’t as large as Brody, but was still tall. He approached slowly, wearing a sexy smile. She wondered if Brody had noticed how freaked she was before and warned his brother.
“You shouldn’t feel bad either way. Honestly. I’m flattered you like my music, and I’m really happy you invited us for dinner, especially now that I’ve smelled the sauce. Only so many bowls of cereal and take-out pizzas a guy can eat. It’s nice to meet you, Elise. I’ve been wanting to thank you for helping my brother out.” Christ, but he was charming.
“Of course I helped. I expect he’d have done the same for me. Well, come on through to the kitchen. I think I’ll have a glass of wine now.” Now that she’d babbled like an idiot.
“Where’s your little girl?” Brody asked, looking around as he took the wine bottle from her. His fingers brushed the outside of her hand, just above the thumb, and sent shivers through her.
Time slowed like honey when he met her eyes, and every cell in her body responded. She watched as if in slow motion when his lips parted and his Adam’s apple slid up and down as he swallowed.
Adrian cleared his throat, and the scrape of a chair as he pulled it away from the table brought her back to her senses.
“She’s, um, out in the backyard. She’s doing this soccer day camp thing this summer and loving it. We set up a net so she’s kicking goals over and over. Which, well, let’s be honest, is awesome for me because it runs her down and there’s no three-hour battle to get her to sleep. She’s pretty high-energy.” She paused and laughed. “That’s a nice way of saying she’s hyper.”
Both men laughed.
Brody held up the corkscrew and the bottle. “Shall I open the wine, then? Is it all right to have a glass in front of Irene? I brought the sparkling water for her if she likes it. Less sugar than soda and stuff.”
Wow, he thought of her kid. “Thank you for asking, Brody. Yes, it’s fine. I mean, I don’t get snockered in her presence or anything, but my parents are European. Drinking wine with dinner is a pretty normal thing for her to see.”
She bustled around as he watched her. The place was a surprise. He hadn’t gotten a very good look the week before when he’d brought her groceries in. He’d been so focused on her, he hadn’t really seen much of the interior.
He’d expected something either super-feminine, with lots of pink, or perhaps very cool and elegant. But the house was warm, with deep, earthy colors, art on the walls, a lot of photographs. It was comfortable, homey.
He handed her a glass of wine and she smiled, thanking him and clinking her glass against his and then Adrian’s. “A votre santé.”
“To your health,” Adrian said back, and she took a sip.
“Very nice. Perfect with the spaghetti.” She drained the noodles, pulled out the garlic bread and put them on the table. She leaned out the back door. “Rennie, time to eat. Wash those hands.”
Rennie grumbled, but scrambled quickly to obey. She returned shortly, holding her hands out for her mother to inspect.
“Fabulous. Sit now. Rennie, this is Adrian, Brody’s brother. Adrian, this is my daughter, Irene.”
“Hi there! You’re cute. Do you have any girlfriends? ’Cause Gran says Momma needs a man in her life. Then Pops says, ‘Pffft, Martine, the last thing Elise needs is a man!’ But I think my Gran is right.”
“Rennie, for tonight, let’s play the think-about-what-we-saybefore-we-say-it game.”
Adrian tried to hide his smile behind his hands as he and Brody shared a glance. “Nice to meet you, Irene. Or should I call you Rennie?”
“My mom calls me Irene when she’s mad. Irene Anne Sorenson when she’s really, really mad. But mainly everyone calls me Rennie. Everybody but Gran. Gran calls me Irene ’cause that was her mom’s name and she says it’s more than good enough for me. Mom says Gran is in a category all her own, so you’ll probably want to call me Rennie too.” Rennie grinned up at Adrian, and Brody saw that his brother was just as charmed by the Sorenson females as he was. Well, he hoped not as charmed, because Elise Sorenson was a woman he didn’t want to see his brother with. Selfish though that might be.
Brody took in the efficient way she filled her daughter’s plate and then her own. Around that, she passed platters and made sure everyone had enough of everything they needed.
He liked to look at her. She was beautiful in a way he’d never seen up close before. Big, china-blue eyes, pale skin. Probably the type to burn like mad in the sun. Her features were delicate and nearly perfect. But at the same time, despite the outward fragility, she was clearly capable. Her manner with her child was the biggest indicator. A kid like Rennie would take a lot of energy to guide, to not overprotect her but also to give enough space for that sharp little mind to grow and learn. She was a free-spirited child, but not bratty. Keeping that balance, he knew, was difficult.
The long line of Elise’s neck called to his fingers. Hard, flat muscle lay over her bones. She wasn’t bulked by any stretch of the imagination, but clearly she worked with her body. Yoga maybe?
“I . . . I’m so embarrassed! I didn’t know, and I don’t know if I should feel bad for not knowing or for having your music on and knowing you by sight. It’s not that I’ve never been around artists before.”
Adrian stepped forward and took her hand. He wasn’t as large as Brody, but was still tall. He approached slowly, wearing a sexy smile. She wondered if Brody had noticed how freaked she was before and warned his brother.
“You shouldn’t feel bad either way. Honestly. I’m flattered you like my music, and I’m really happy you invited us for dinner, especially now that I’ve smelled the sauce. Only so many bowls of cereal and take-out pizzas a guy can eat. It’s nice to meet you, Elise. I’ve been wanting to thank you for helping my brother out.” Christ, but he was charming.
“Of course I helped. I expect he’d have done the same for me. Well, come on through to the kitchen. I think I’ll have a glass of wine now.” Now that she’d babbled like an idiot.
“Where’s your little girl?” Brody asked, looking around as he took the wine bottle from her. His fingers brushed the outside of her hand, just above the thumb, and sent shivers through her.
Time slowed like honey when he met her eyes, and every cell in her body responded. She watched as if in slow motion when his lips parted and his Adam’s apple slid up and down as he swallowed.
Adrian cleared his throat, and the scrape of a chair as he pulled it away from the table brought her back to her senses.
“She’s, um, out in the backyard. She’s doing this soccer day camp thing this summer and loving it. We set up a net so she’s kicking goals over and over. Which, well, let’s be honest, is awesome for me because it runs her down and there’s no three-hour battle to get her to sleep. She’s pretty high-energy.” She paused and laughed. “That’s a nice way of saying she’s hyper.”
Both men laughed.
Brody held up the corkscrew and the bottle. “Shall I open the wine, then? Is it all right to have a glass in front of Irene? I brought the sparkling water for her if she likes it. Less sugar than soda and stuff.”
Wow, he thought of her kid. “Thank you for asking, Brody. Yes, it’s fine. I mean, I don’t get snockered in her presence or anything, but my parents are European. Drinking wine with dinner is a pretty normal thing for her to see.”
She bustled around as he watched her. The place was a surprise. He hadn’t gotten a very good look the week before when he’d brought her groceries in. He’d been so focused on her, he hadn’t really seen much of the interior.
He’d expected something either super-feminine, with lots of pink, or perhaps very cool and elegant. But the house was warm, with deep, earthy colors, art on the walls, a lot of photographs. It was comfortable, homey.
He handed her a glass of wine and she smiled, thanking him and clinking her glass against his and then Adrian’s. “A votre santé.”
“To your health,” Adrian said back, and she took a sip.
“Very nice. Perfect with the spaghetti.” She drained the noodles, pulled out the garlic bread and put them on the table. She leaned out the back door. “Rennie, time to eat. Wash those hands.”
Rennie grumbled, but scrambled quickly to obey. She returned shortly, holding her hands out for her mother to inspect.
“Fabulous. Sit now. Rennie, this is Adrian, Brody’s brother. Adrian, this is my daughter, Irene.”
“Hi there! You’re cute. Do you have any girlfriends? ’Cause Gran says Momma needs a man in her life. Then Pops says, ‘Pffft, Martine, the last thing Elise needs is a man!’ But I think my Gran is right.”
“Rennie, for tonight, let’s play the think-about-what-we-saybefore-we-say-it game.”
Adrian tried to hide his smile behind his hands as he and Brody shared a glance. “Nice to meet you, Irene. Or should I call you Rennie?”
“My mom calls me Irene when she’s mad. Irene Anne Sorenson when she’s really, really mad. But mainly everyone calls me Rennie. Everybody but Gran. Gran calls me Irene ’cause that was her mom’s name and she says it’s more than good enough for me. Mom says Gran is in a category all her own, so you’ll probably want to call me Rennie too.” Rennie grinned up at Adrian, and Brody saw that his brother was just as charmed by the Sorenson females as he was. Well, he hoped not as charmed, because Elise Sorenson was a woman he didn’t want to see his brother with. Selfish though that might be.
Brody took in the efficient way she filled her daughter’s plate and then her own. Around that, she passed platters and made sure everyone had enough of everything they needed.
He liked to look at her. She was beautiful in a way he’d never seen up close before. Big, china-blue eyes, pale skin. Probably the type to burn like mad in the sun. Her features were delicate and nearly perfect. But at the same time, despite the outward fragility, she was clearly capable. Her manner with her child was the biggest indicator. A kid like Rennie would take a lot of energy to guide, to not overprotect her but also to give enough space for that sharp little mind to grow and learn. She was a free-spirited child, but not bratty. Keeping that balance, he knew, was difficult.
The long line of Elise’s neck called to his fingers. Hard, flat muscle lay over her bones. She wasn’t bulked by any stretch of the imagination, but clearly she worked with her body. Yoga maybe?
