be it.
But not if Tracy Williams evicted him. Up until now, she hadn’t seemed uptight, only innocent. As if she’d never been allowed to explore her sexual nature. He frowned. Something else was at work here. Something else was forcing her hand, but what? And how could he get her to change her mind?
He pictured Miss Williams in his thoughts. She had the curvy build of many Caucasians—lush bottom, tiny waist and full breasts beneath her tapered white blouse. Her face was just long enough, her complexion clear— milky-white, in fact—and her eyes were a bright brown. In truth, fortune sat on her face, lengthening her earlobes and sweetening the distance between the tip of her nose and the curve of her pale lips. He sensed a clarity in her chi—her energy—though like her body, it was buried beneath ill-fitting clutter.
It would be a joy to peel back the clothing on her body and the layers of grime on her energy. What a beauty would lie underneath. His own energy was already strengthening at the thought. It could be amazing for both of them, if she just allowed it. But first, he had to get close enough to show her the truth.
Fortunately, he had an idea….
Chapter 2
“URNG EALTRR CALLED.”
Tracy looked up from her breakfast of champions—black coffee and plain yogurt—to frown at her younger brother. “What?”
Joey was trying to bulk for football, which meant he was eating everything in sight. Right now he was alternating between a three-egg omelet and a bowl of sugar-frosted something. He swallowed, slurped the last of the orange juice, then finally spoke clearly. “The Realtor called.”
Tracy set down her coffee, a shiver of excitement zinging through her body. “Has he got an offer already?”
Joey stared at her, his sweet brown eyes completely flat. “No offer,” he mumbled as he turned back to the omelet. “Just wanted details about when we inherited, how much debt was on the property, and how we leveraged it. Plus tax stuff and the dates of your renovations.”
Tracy groaned. Great, more paperwork. “You told him to call my cell, right?”
“Nah. I answered it all for him.”
It was a good thing Tracy had set down her coffee because it would have sloshed to the floor. “When did you pay attention to words like leverage and taxes?”
Joey set down his fork. “I haven’t been asleep all these years. I know stuff.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said softly, more than a little thrown. Her brother wasn’t stupid—but when had he noticed anything beyond football and the season’s newest cheerleaders.
“I can help with the drywall this weekend, if you want,” he said as he drained his cereal bowl with a loud slurp.
“Already done. Besides, don’t you have a history paper to write?”
“Already done,” he retorted. “Mandy helped me.”
“Good. Then you can study for the ACTs. It’s your last shot at a decent score—”
“I know!” Joey dropped his empty bowl on the table, his tone surly as only a teen could be. “God, you’re really jonesing for it, aren’t you? Four more years of school. Ugh!”
“Think of the money you can earn with an education.” She leaned forward. “Joey, do you know how much a stockbroker makes in a year? One who’s willing to work hard?” She sighed wistfully. “We’d never have to worry about money again.”
“I’m not worried now,” he returned. His long lashes dropped against his freckled face. He was still so young, and yet she saw adulthood in his broad shoulders and his quiet strength. He’d grown so much since that awful day eight years ago.
“I’m worried, Joey,” she confessed. “Slow and steady, remember? That’s what Dad used to say. Effort now is like putting pennies in a jar. Eventually it’ll pay off.”
He stacked his dishes and dropped them in the sink behind him. “I have been working hard.”
She nodded. He’d certainly been working out hard. Football was his passion, and he did all sorts of renovation work with her or for his friends’ parents on the weekends. But that wasn’t the same as working hard at school. “Joey, we’re at the big payoff. After eight years, we can finally start living the lives we were meant to before…” She shrugged. “You know, before.”
His gaze slanted away. He never liked talking about their parents. Truthfully, she didn’t, either; it hurt too much. “I never asked you to give up your life for me,” he said. “You could have gone to college. I would have found a way to get by.”
She stepped forward, wanting to hug him the way they had so long ago. But he bunched his shoulders and leaned under the table to grab his backpack. So she tucked her hands tightly to her chest. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Joey. These last years have been hard, yes, but they’ve been good, too. Come on, aren’t you ready to move on? Go to college? Get started on adulthood?”
He straightened slowly, then faced her with a look that was half wary, half hopeful. “What if I took a year off? We have enough money for you to go to school, right? I could take care of the apartment building—”
“Absolutely not. You’re going to college.” He wasn’t going to put his life on hold for her. “It’s what Mom and Dad wanted.”
His lips tightened. He never argued when she played the Mom-and-Dad card. “Why don’t you ever date?”
She blinked, thrown for the second time this morning. “When did you start paying attention to my dating habits?”
“Mandy noticed. She said you ought to date more. That maybe you’d be less worried about money and stuff if you got out more.” Translation: if she dated, she’d be less focused on him going to college.
“Nice try, but Mandy’s wrong,” she said. “The men I meet are all flash. None of them are in for the long haul. Besides, I’m working on me.” She smiled, finally seeing a point to this conversation. “Yes, Joey, I am jonesing for it. It’s time for us both to step into our adult lives. I’m willing to work hard for that. How about you?”
“Fine,” he snapped as he pushed away from the kitchen table. “I’ll try for a football scholarship.”
“You’ll try to ace that physics test on Monday.”
He groaned as he shrugged on his backpack. “You know I’m not good at school.”
“Don’t make me be a mom here,” she said in her most momlike voice. “Study for that test! Both of them!”
“Fine.” He shrugged on the varsity jacket that had cost her $150 last Christmas. She’d skipped lunch for months just to save up for it. “Joey, just think about what we could have—”
“I’ll study with Tommy after practice,” he interrupted.
What could she say to that except a tired old adage? “Slow and steady effort, Joey.”
He hauled open the back door. “I really liked doing the drywall and plumbing and stuff with Dad. With you, too.” He paused long enough for Tracy to realize there was an underlying message there, but then he spun away and the screen door bounced shut behind him. She shifted sideways to watch out the window as he trudged to the bus stop.
How she wished she understood her brother. Some days he seemed so mature, happy with football, focused on being a high-school senior. Then the next moment, he seemed lost, looking to her to provide an answer when she didn’t even know the question. What did he need? What was missing in his life?
She didn’t know, and so she had no choice but to move on with her day. Painting and mopping were on the schedule. Wow. The glamorous life of a landlord. She flashed briefly on tenant 4C. Would he know what was going on with her brother? Did his Tantric religion offer answers to teenage boys, as well as sexual immortality?
Of course not. But the idea had her smiling all the way to the paint store.
WITH ONE FOOT, Tracy stomped on the mop-bucket squeezer. The water drained with a loud splash, then with a practiced whip slap, she obliterated more mud from the hallway. She’d finished painting in record time, and so now she had to do her bit as janitor. Her ancient Discman belted out her favorite mopping music, but nothing
