Return of the Last McKenna (Harlequin Romance) Read online

  “And what work do you do, that feeds your soul?” She colored. “Sorry. That’s a little personal. You don’t have to answer. I was just curious.”

  “I’m a doctor,” he said.

  She leaned against the counter, one elbow on the glass, her body turned toward his. “That’s a rewarding job. So much more so than baking. And not to mention, a lot more complicated than measuring out cupcake batter.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said. “Your job looks pretty rewarding to me. I mean, you make people happy.”

  “It takes a lot of sugar to do that.” She laughed. “But thank you. I try my best. Three generations of Spencers have been trying to do that here.”

  Brody’s gaze drifted over the articles on the wall. Several contained accolades and positive reviews for the sweet shop, a third generation business that had enjoyed decades of raves, as evidenced by some of the framed, yellowed clippings. Brody paused when he got to the last article on the right. The page was creased on one side, as if someone had kept the paper in a book for a while before posting it on the wall. A picture of a handsome young man in uniform smiled out from the corner of the article.

  SHOP OWNER’S BROTHER DIES IN AFGHANISTAN

  Brody didn’t have to read another word to write the ending. In an instant, he was back there, in that hot, dusty hut, praying and cursing, and praying and cursing some more, while he tried to pump life back into Andrew Spencer.

  And failed.

  Brody could still feel the young man’s chest beneath his palms. A hard balloon, going up, going down, forced into moving by Brody’s hands, but no breath escaping his lips. Andrew’s eyes open, sightless, empty. His life ebbing away one second at a time, while Brody watched, helpless and frustrated. Powerless.

  Damn. Damn.

  No amount of time would heal that wound for Kate and her family. No amount of time would make that better. What had he been thinking? How could buying a basket ever ease the pain he’d caused Kate Spencer? What had Andrew been thinking, sending Brody here?

  Brody’s hand went to the card in his pocket again, but this time, the cardboard corners formed sharp barbs.

  “Sir? Your basket is ready.”

  Brody whirled around. “My basket?”

  Kate laughed and held it up. The arrangement sported a new pink and white bow and the sports-themed chocolates had been changed for ones shaped like flowers. “For grandma?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure, thanks.” He gestured toward the article on the wall. He knew he should let it go, but he’d made a promise, and somehow, he had to find a way to keep it. Maybe then he’d be able to sleep, to find peace, and to give some to Kate Spencer, too. “You had a brother in the war?”

  A shadow dropped over her features. She fiddled with the pen on the counter. “Yeah. My little brother, Andrew. He died over there last month. We all thought he was safe because the big conflict was over, but there were still dangers around every corner.”

  “I’m sorry.” So much sorrier than he could say. He wanted to step forward, but instead Brody lingered by the counter. All the words he’d practiced in his head seemed empty, inadequate. “That must have been tough.”

  “It has been. In a lot of ways. But I work, and I talk to him sometimes, and I get through it.” She blushed. “That sounds crazy, I know.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Not at all.”

  She smoothed a hand over the counter. “He used to work here. And I miss seeing him every day. He was the organized one in the family, and he’d be appalled at the condition of my office.” She laughed, then nodded toward the basket. “Anyway, do you want to put your card with that?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure.” He handed Kate the message he’d scribbled to his grandmother and watched as she tucked the small paper inside the cellophane wrapper. Again, he tried to find the words he needed to say, and again, he failed. “I’ve, uh, never been to this place before. Lived in this neighborhood for a while and I’ve seen it often, but never stopped by.”

  “Well, thank you for coming and shopping at Nora’s Sweet Shop.” She gave the basket a friendly pat. “I hope your grandmother enjoys her treats.”

  “I’m sure she will.” For the hundredth time he told himself to leave. And for the hundredth time, he didn’t. “So if you’re Kate, who’s Nora?” He asked the question, even though he knew the answer. Andrew had talked about Nora’s Sweet Shop often, and told Brody the entire story about its origins.

  “Nora is my grandmother.” A soft smile stole over Kate’s face. “She opened this place right after my grandfather came home from the Korean War. He worked side by side with her here for sixty years before they both retired and gave the shop to my brother and me. She’s the Nora in Nora’s Sweet Shop and if you ask my grandfather, she’s the sweet in his life.”

  “She’s still alive?” Ever since Brody had met the jovial, brave soldier, he’d wondered what kind of people had raised a man like that. What kind of family surrounded him, supported him as he went off to defend the country.

  “My grandparents are retired now,” Kate said, “but they come by the shop all the time and still do some deliveries. My brother and I grew up around here, and we spent more time behind this counter than anywhere else. I think partly to help my grandparents, and partly to keep us out of trouble while my parents were working. We were mischievous when we were young,” she said with a laugh, “and my brother Andrew served as my partner in crime. Back then…and also for years afterwards when we took over the shop from my grandma. He had the craziest ideas.” She shook her head again. “Anyway, that’s how a Kate ended up running Nora’s.”

  Brody had heard the same story from Andrew. Both Spencer children had loved the little shop, and the indulgent grandparents who ran it. Andrew hadn’t talked much about his parents, except to say they were divorced, but he had raved about his grandparents and his older sister.

  It had been one of several things Brody had in common with the young soldier, and created a bond between the two of them almost from the first day they met. He’d understood that devotion to grandparents, and to siblings.

  “My grandmother runs a family business, too. A marketing agency started by my grandfather years ago. My brothers and I all went in different directions, so I think she’s pinned her hopes on my cousin Alec for taking it over when she retires.”

  She cocked her head to one side and studied him, her gaze roaming over his suit, tie, the shiny dress shoes. A teasing smile played on her lips, danced in her eyes. Already he’d started to like Kate Spencer. Her sassy attitude, her friendly smile.

  “And you, Mr. Red Sox ribbon, you are far from the business type, being a doctor?”

  He chuckled. “Definitely.”

  “Well, should I ever feel faint,” she pressed a hand to her chest and the smile widened, and something in Brody flipped inside out, “I know who to call.”

  For a second, he forgot his reason for being there. His gaze lingered on the hand on her chest, then drifted to the curve of her lips. “I’m right around the corner. Almost shouting distance.”

  “That’s good to know.” The smile again. “Really good.”

  The tension between them coiled tighter. The room warmed, and the traffic outside became a low, muted hum. Brody wished he was an ordinary customer, here on an ordinary reason. That he wasn’t going to have to make that smile dim by telling her the truth.

  Kate broke eye contact first. She jerked her attention to the register, her fingers hove
ring over the keys. “Goodness. I got so distracted by talking, I forgot to charge you.”

  “And I forgot to pay.” Brody handed over a credit card. As he did, he noticed her hands. Long, delicate fingers tipped with no-nonsense nails. Pretty hands. The kind that seemed like they’d have an easy, gentle touch.

  She took the credit card, slid it through the register, pushed a few buttons, then waited for a receipt to print. She glanced down at his name as she handed him back the card. “Mr. McKenna, is it?”

  He braced himself. Did she recognize the last name? But her smile remained friendly.

  Yes, I’m Brody McKenna. The doctor who let your brother die.

  Not the answer he wanted to give. Call him selfish, call him a coward, but for right now, he wanted only to see her smile again. He told himself it was because that was what Andrew had wanted, but really, Brody liked Kate’s smile. A lot.

  “Yes. But I prefer Brody.” He scrawled his name across the receipt and slid it back to her.

  “Well, thank you, Brody.” His name slid off her tongue with an easy, sweet lilt. “I hope you return if you’re in the neighborhood again.”

  “Thank you, Kate.” He picked up his basket and headed for the door. As he pushed on the exit, he paused, turned back. He had come here for a reason, and had yet to fulfill even a tenth of that purpose. “Maybe someday I can return the favor.”

  “I didn’t do anything special, just my job. If you want to return the favor, then tell all your friends to shop here and to call on us to help them celebrate special moments.” And then, like a gift, she smiled at him again. “That’ll be more than enough.”

  “No, it won’t,” he said, his voice low and quiet, then headed out the door.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHAT had he been thinking?

  He’d gone into that little shop planning…what?

  To tell Kate the truth? That her little brother had charged him with making sure his sister was okay. That Brody was supposed to make sure she wasn’t letting her grief overwhelm her, and that she was staying on track with her life, despite losing Andrew. Instead Brody had bought a basket of chocolates, and chickened out at the last minute. Damn.

  “Tell me you’re quiet because you’re distracted by that pretty hostess over there,” Riley said to Brody. The dim interior provided the perfect backdrop for the microbrewery/restaurant that had become their newest favorite stop for lunch. Brody had called Riley yesterday after his visit to Nora’s Sweet Shop, and made plans for lunch today. That, he figured, would keep him from making another visit. And leaving without saying or doing what he’d gone there to do.

  “Why are you mentioning the hostess?” Brody asked. “Aren’t you getting married soon?”

  “I am indeed. But that doesn’t mean I can’t keep my eye out for a pretty girl…” Riley leaned across the table and grinned, “for you. You’re the last of the McKenna boys who isn’t married. Better pony up to the bar, brother, and join the club.”

  “No way. I’ve tried that—”

  “You got engaged. Not married. Doesn’t count. You came to the edge of the cliff and didn’t jump.”

  “For good reason.” Melissa had been more interested in the glamour of being a doctor’s wife than in being Brody’s wife. Once she’d realized he had opted for a small family practice instead of a lucrative practice like plastic surgery or cardiac care, she’d called off the engagement. She didn’t want a man who spent his life “sacrificing,” she’d said. No matter what Brody said or did, he couldn’t fix their relationship and couldn’t get it back on track. Brody’s family dream had evaporated like a puddle on a summer day.

  Brody picked up the menu and scanned the offerings. “How’s work going?”

  That drew more laughter from Riley. “Don’t think I’m falling for that. You’re changing the subject.”

  “You got me.” Brody put up his hands. “I don’t want to talk about the hostess or my love life or why I didn’t get married. I want to visit with my little brother before he attaches the ball and chain to his ankle.”

  “No need for that. I’m head over heels in love with my wife to be.” A goofy grin spread across Riley’s face. “We’re working out the final details for the wedding. Got the place—”

  “The diner.” A busy, quaint place in the heart of Boston where the former playboy Riley had worked for a few weeks when their grandmother had cut him off from the family pocketbook and told him to get a job and grow up. Now, a couple of months later, Riley had turned into a different man. Stace had brought out the best in Brody’s little brother.

  “Gran had a fit about us having the wedding at the Morning Glory, because she wanted us to get married at the Park Plaza, but Stace and I love that old diner, so it seemed only fitting we seal the deal there. Stace has her dress, though I am forbidden from seeing it until the wedding day. And you guys all have your suits—”

  “Thank you again for not making me put on a tux.”

  Riley grinned. “You know me, Brody. I’d rather wear a horsehair shirt than a tux. Finn’s the only formal one out of the three of us. He actually wanted a tux. Says I’m killing a tradition with the suit idea.” Riley waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m sure Ellie will talk some sense into him. That wife of his has been the best thing ever for ol’ stick in the mud Finn.”

  Brody shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re talking about wedding plans. You’ve changed, little brother.”

  “For the better, believe me. Meeting Stace made me change everything about myself, my life. And I’m glad it did.” The waitress came by their table to take their orders. Riley opted to try the new Autumn Lager, while Brody stuck to water.

  Riley raised a hand when a few of their mutual friends came in. Then he turned back to Brody. “Want me to invite them over to join us?”

  Brody thought of the small talk they’d exchange, idle chatter about women, work and sports. “I don’t feel much like company. Maybe another time.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Brody pushed his menu to the side of the table and avoided his brother’s gaze.

  “Sure you are. Brody, you’re still struggling. You should talk about it.”

  The waitress dropped off their drinks. Brody thanked her, then took a long sip of the icy water. Talking about it hadn’t done any good. He’d lost patients before, back when he was an intern, and in the last few years, seen a few patients die of heart disease and cancer, but this one had been different. Maybe because he’d lacked the tools so easy to obtain here.

  Either way, Brody didn’t want to discuss the loss of Andrew. Of the three McKennas, Brody kept the most inside. Maybe it came from being the middle brother, sandwiched between practical Finn and boisterous Riley. Or maybe it stemmed from his job—the good doctor trying to keep emotion out of the equation and relying on logic to make decisions. Or maybe it stemmed from something deeper.

  Admitting he had failed. Doctors were the ones people relied on to fix it, make it better, and Brody hadn’t done either.

  “By the way,” Brody said, “if you guys don’t have a cake picked out yet for the wedding, there’s this bakery down the street from my office that does cupcake wedding cakes. They had a display in the window. I thought it looked kind of cool. I know you and Stace are doing the unconventional thing, so maybe this would be a good fit.”

  “Changing the subject again?”

  Brody grinned. “Doing my best.”

  “Okay. I get
the hint. No, we don’t have a cake decided on yet. We planned this whole thing pretty fast, because all I want to do is wake up next to Stace every day of my life.” Riley grinned, then narrowed his eyes. “Hey, since when do you bring dessert to a get-together? Or heck, offer anything other than a reminder to get my flu shot?”

  Brody scowled. “I thought it’d be nice for you and Stace.”

  Riley leaned forward, studying his older brother’s face. “Wait…did you say bakery? Is it the one owned by that guy’s sister?”

  “Yeah.” Brody shrugged, concentrated on drinking his water. “It is. But that’s not—”

  “Oh.” Riley paused a second. “Okay. I get it. Good idea.”

  “I’m just offering to help defray the costs of your wedding.”

  “Whatever spin you want to put on it is fine with me.” Riley chuckled. “Stace talked about baking the cake herself, but she’s so busy with the diner, and then planning this thing. Let me talk to Stace and see if that works for her. I’ll do that right now, in fact.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I don’t mind, Brody. Not one bit.” Riley’s face filled with sympathy. Riley knew very little about Brody’s time in Afghanistan. A few facts, but no real details, and only because Riley had brought over a six-pack of beer to welcome Brody home, and by the third one, Brody had started talking. He’d told Riley one of the military guys who had died had been local, that he’d struck up a friendship with the man before he died. But that was all. Brody had hoped broaching the subject would be cathartic. Instead, in the morning he had a hangover and ten times more regrets.

  Riley flipped out his cell phone and dialed. “How’s the prettiest bride in Boston today?”

  Brody heard Stace laugh on the other end. He turned away, watched the hum of activity in the restaurant. Waitstaff bustling back and forth, the bartender joking with a few regulars, the tables filling and emptying like tidal pools.