Chapter 6

Seated with two coffees, Brady allowed himself to smile. Her scent had not changed. It still aroused the flame inside him that had never fully been extinguished. He stamped it into submission and focused on just the woman who sat with him at the Jumping Java. At least he tried his best to ignore the embers sizzling deep in his loin.

She was so beautiful. Just like in his dreams. Twenty years had added a few crow’s feet but her hair had the same silky softness it did in high school. If anything, she looked even more luscious as a woman. The embers sparked to life. Brady closed his eyes, willing the flames to be snuffed out.

“So, what do you do for a living?” He started with a safe subject. He’d already stumbled across a tough one and learned she was a widow.

“Well, after high school, and ... you know ... I took a year to ... recover, emotionally and physically. Then I went to nursing school and got an RN degree. Grandma had moved to Denver Colorado and had brought GiGi with her. GiGi settled in a really nice community for independent elders. After several years, Grandma put out an SOS that she was in bad health and needed Poppy and me to come out there to help. We did, of course. Only to find out she was faking her frailness.”

Heather laughed. The sound of her voice danced across Brady’s nerves. It felt good and yet it was painful.

“Once we got out here, just like she had hoped, we settled down and stayed. Me in Denver with her and Poppy in Cañon City with Hank. Grandma had been working for the hospital and ended up taking a position in the morgue as the ME.”

Heather sipped her coffee and stared out the window. “I met Justin in Denver. He was the coroner. He and Grandma got along well. Funny how they were friends before we—” She drew in a deep resigning breath. “Anyway, he’s been gone two years now and I moved back in with Grandma. I work with her in the ME clinic and we are roommates. You’d think we’d get sick of each other, but we don’t.”

She fingered a silver pendant that dangled just above the line of her cleavage. Brady forced his eyes up from the object of her worry to maintain eye contact. His eyes had a will of their own and darted back to the pendant and the soft hint of her breast.

He nodded as she spoke to show he was listening, but if she asked what she had just said, he’d be in trouble. It was great to be with her again. And yet, he knew it was wrong.

The man and the legacy warred over what he wanted and what it needed. To procreate. To continue its existence. He had brushed up against that mistake once. His son had died in the womb. It was better that way. Brady just couldn’t allow this curse to continue beyond him.

But it was a struggle. Pinpricks of excitement radiated across his skin as he listened to Heather talk about her life. The hunger to feel her body next to his, to take her into his arms and make love to her right here at this table filled every fiber of his body. Like his dream, he wanted to dominate her, scoop her under him, and feel his seed spill into her.