Playing with Dynamite by Leanne Banks

Thank you for carrying me. And I’d love some lemonade?”
    He squeezed her shoulders, then stood. “Sit tight.”
    Kicking off her shoes, she watched him go out the front door and wondered why he’d gone back outside. She was also starting to wonder why he’d shown up at all when he quickly returned with a small wrapped box.
    â€œJust a minute,” he called as he went into the kitchen.
    A moment later he entered the living room with the lemonade and the box. He presented her with both and nicked on a small table lamp. Lifting her feet, he sat at the other end of the sofa. “Happy birthday, Lisa.”
    Lisa’s heart contracted. She stared at the gaily wrapped present. “But—”
    â€œI know it’s late, but if I’d had any idea your birthday was coming, I would have wanted to be a part of it. I still do.”
    Lisa set the lemonade on a coaster, and her gaze flew to Brick’s. “I don’t know what to say.”
    He shrugged. “Why don’t you open it?”
    With a strange sense of nervousness, she tugged the ribbon and paper loose, then lifted the top off the box. Nestled inside were exquisitely crafted cut-crystal figures of a mother deer and her fawn.
    Lisa held her breath for a long moment. There was a significance to the gift. Brick had always told her she reminded him of a doe because of her big eyes and sometimes shy nature. She didn’t like for strangers to use pet names with her, but when Brick did, it somehow felt different. The figures were beautiful, reminding her afresh of her desire for her own baby. She could speculate that the nature of the gift meant that Brick had at least accepted her desire to have a child even if he couldn’t be a part of it.
    That thought tore at her. Too many poignant emotions pulled her in different directions. She felt an overwhelming urge to cry. Clearing her throat, she carefully set the figurines on the sofa table. “They’re beautiful, Brick. Just beautiful.”
    â€œYou like them?” His large hand wrapped around one of her stocking-clad feet.
    â€œAbsolutely. I’ll treasure them. Thank you.” Her gaze met his, and she had the odd sensation of sharing some rapport with a trapped doe.
    His thumb moving across the ball of her foot, he simply looked at her without saying a word. But his eyes, oh, his eyes were full of things that stirred her soul and made her heart pound. Full of things she simply couldn’t believe.
    Lisa cleared her throat. “What—what are you doing?”
    â€œRubbing your feet. Didn’t you say you were tired?”
    Lisa blinked. “Well, yes, but—”
    â€œDoesn’t that include your feet?”
    He continued the gentle massage along her inner arch, and she nearly groaned. “Yes, but I don’t know. I…” She sighed when he squeezed her heel.
    â€œTell me about your day,” he invited in an easy voice.
    Despite her reserve, Lisa felt herself respond to his relaxed tone. She should probably tell him to get his wonderful hands off her feet, his great body off her sofa, and leave her alone. He rubbed the back of her ankle, and she bit back a whimper as her tensed muscles began to ease. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak, Lisa told herself and immediately knew the old adage didn’t apply.
    Who was she kidding? She was one spineless puddle of femininity in dire need of a little TLC. If Brick was willing to rub her feet and offer some consolation, who was she to reject the offer?
    It wasn’t as if he was doing anything the least bit provocative, she thought. His hands had a long way to go before he reached her knees, let alone her thighs, or hips, or… Blocking off that thought, Lisa concentrated on the soothing effect of his hands and let out a long sigh.
    â€œIt all started when I backed over Mrs. Crabapple’s groceries. Six bags. Eggs, meat, canned goods and ten glass jars of