Free A Passion Denied by Julie Lessman

there and swiped crumbs into both of her eyes.
    “Beth?”
    She didn’t answer. She was too busy blinking.
    He reached for her chin and gently tugged her gaze to his. He was suddenly the consummate big brother, concern etched in his handsome face. “Answer me. Is he a gentleman?”
    The crumbs were masterful as they welled in her eyes. “I’m . . . n-not sure.”
    “What do you mean you’re not sure? Has he given you cause to think otherwise?”
    “Well, he . . . he kissed me once.”
    Disapproval darkened Brady’s features. “Did you encourage him?”
    Her lips parted in shock. “No! I promise you I didn’t. He c-cornered me.”
    “So, he’s not a gentleman?”
    Her eyes went wide. “I don’t know . . . maybe . . . but probably not.”
    She began to shake, not sure if it was her nerves or the drumming of Brady’s fingers hard on the wood. He eyed her through narrowed lids. “Well, he doesn’t sound like the type of young man you need. I suggest you forget about him and look elsewhere.”
    She blinked. “What?”
    “You wanted my advice as a friend, and I’m giving it. Forget him.”
    A rare rush of indignation flared in her cheeks. “I wanted your advice on how to ward off his advances, Brady, not if I should date him. I’ve already decided on that.”
    “You can’t date some clown with one thing on his mind.”
    Crackers and fury forced hot tears from her eyes. He didn’t want her, but no one else could either? She rose to her feet. “How dare you, John Brady? I have no choice! My heart is breaking because of you, and if it takes Tom Weston to get over you, then so be it.”
    He jumped up. “Beth, forgive me, please, and don’t cry. We can pray about this—”
    Disbelief paralyzed her for a painful second. “No! You leave me be. I don’t want any more of your prayers—”
    His hand gripped her. “Beth, please, sit with me? Can’t we just talk and work this out?”
    She relented, allowing him to tug her back to the swing, where the feel of his powerful arms only enflamed the longing in her soul. He bundled her against his shoulder, and the clean, pure scent of musk soap taunted her senses.
    “Beth, you’re so special to me,” he whispered. “I never want to hurt you.” He kissed the top of her head, and she could smell a trace of the peppermint he kept for children at the shop. A sharp ache pierced her heart. He was her Brady, good and strong and kind . . . but he would never really belong to her. Not the way she yearned in her heart—as a husband, a man, a lover . The thought all but crushed her, and she collapsed against his chest in painful weeping.
    “Beth, don’t cry, please. I love you . . .”
    She felt his lips in her hair, and her anguish surged. She jerked away. “No, don’t lie to me, Brady! You don’t love me—”
    He groaned and embraced her. “I do love you, little buddy, more than anyone in this world.” With grief in his eyes, he searched her swollen face. He caressed her wet cheeks with gentle hands. “You mean everything to me,” he whispered. He bent to press a light kiss to her forehead.
    Shallow breaths rose from her throat at the warmth of his lips against her skin. Her body stilled. “ A kiss is the only thing that will haunt him until he admits he’s in love. ”
    She lifted her gaze, taking great care to impart a slow sweep of lashes.
    “Beth, are we okay?” He ducked his head to search her eyes, then brushed her hair back from her face. A smile shadowed his lips. “Still friends?”
    Friends. A deadly plague only a kiss could cure. Resolve stiffened her spine. “Sure, Brady . . . friends.”
    He smiled and tucked a finger under her chin. “That’s my girl. Now what do you say we pray about some of these things?”
    He leaned close with another quick kiss to her brow, and in a desperate beat of her heart, she lunged, uniting her mouth with his. She felt the shock of her action in the jolt of his body, and she gripped him close to deepen the