A Passion Denied by Julie Lessman Page A

my hide if I did that.”
    Brady’s muscles jerked. He squinted in the dark. “Cluny? What the devil are you doing here?” He grappled to turn on a small lamp by the door, then whirled around to see Cluny McGee bundled in a blanket on his sofa. His grimy face revealed blue eyes still groggy from sleep. “How in blazes did you get in?”
    “Mrs. Cox has a key.” A flash of white teeth gleamed in the dark as Cluny scratched his skinny chest with a touch of bravado. Brady could swear he saw him wink. “I told her she was pretty.”
    “Why?”
    “Because ladies like that—”
    “No, I mean why are you here ?”
    Cluny appeared hurt. “Gosh, Brady, you said I could spend the night sometime, if it was okay with Gram, so here I be.”
    Brady charged across the room and yanked Cluny’s covers clean off. The small-framed boy was dressed in the same dirty clothes he’d worn earlier in the week. And the smell confirmed it. “Well, not tonight; you’re going home.”
    “Cain’t.”
    “What do you mean, you can’t?”
    Cluny pulled the covers back up in a show of modesty. “I mean, I cain’t. Gram’s gone home to see her sister—Arkansas. She’s sick something awful.”
    Brady grabbed a wiry arm and pulled the boy to his feet. “Your mother, then.”
    Dirt and freckles merged into one as Cluny scowled. “Shoot, Brady, she ran off with another no-good boyfriend last month. Don’t ya remember?”
    The headache began to throb at the top of his skull. His nerves felt like they were twitching under his skin. Brady swore under his breath and slacked a hip. “Isn’t there anybody else you can stay with tonight? A neighbor, a friend?”
    Cluny squinted. “I thought you told me I shouldn’t cuss? And come on, Brady, you know you’re the only real friend I have.”
    Brady forced his frustration out with a loud blast of air. “I wasn’t cussing, Cluny, I was muttering.”
    Cluny arched his pale brows and folded his arms, going on thirty rather than fourteen. “Same thing, far as I can tell.”
    Brady groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face, finally relenting with a thin smile. “Okay, Cluny, you’re right. I was cussing and I’m sorry. It’s just that tonight has been the worst night of my life, and God knows this is not the best time for you to be here.”
    Cluny’s brows pinched in thought as he peered up through narrowed eyes. “And maybe it is, Brady, ever think of that? Maybe God ‘knows’ you’d be needin’ a real good friend tonight. Ya know, somebody to take your mind off things?”
    Brady’s eyes burned as he turned away, blinking hard to dispel the wetness. He bent to pick up the blanket. “Well, get your carcass down the hall and into the tub then, because there’s no way you’re sleeping in my bed until you’re squeaky clean.”
    “I ain’t taking your bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
    “No, you’re sleeping in the bed or out in the hall, take your pick. I’ll take the sofa.” Brady headed to the bathroom and tossed the cover in the hamper, then leaned in to turn the faucet of his claw-foot tub.
    Cluny followed and propped against the door. He scratched his stomach with a wide yawn. “Why? I don’t want to cause you no trouble.”
    Brady studied the slight boy with a hitch in his heart. He was certain that the Southie neighborhood had never produced a more neglected—or dirtier—street urchin in all of Boston. “Because you’re a guest . . . and a good friend.”
    Cluny beamed, even through all the dirt. “Thanks, Brady. We won’t be any trouble, I promise.”
    The blood in Brady’s veins slowed to a crawl. “We?”
    Cluny provided an ample show of teeth that reminded Brady he probably hadn’t seen a toothbrush anytime lately. “Miss Hercules and me.”
    Brady pushed a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. Lord, no! He’d forgotten about Miss Hercules. “Where is she?” he whispered, opening his eyes once again, even though he wasn’t quite ready to face