The Other Brother by Lucy Felthouse

 
     
     
Chapter One
     
     
    Melodie Carr reluctantly clicked delete on the e-mail with a disappointed sigh. She couldn’t contribute to the charity calendar for the Hero Family Fund, a cause very close to her heart, because she didn’t know anyone suitable to photograph. Although her photography work varied—from children to pets, landscapes to portraits, she’d done a bit of everything—she got the impression the call for calendar models sought hunky guys to create a collection to make women swoon. Unfortunately, she didn’t work with professional models and therefore had to give up on the idea. A cute dog, something she had plenty of images of, simply wouldn’t cut it.
    She might not be able to contribute, but resolved to find out when the calendar would be available and do her bit to help by buying a few copies. Some eye candy on her wall would definitely not go amiss, and her friends Poppy, Lola and Charis, and her grandmother, Joyce, would no doubt appreciate it. She grinned. Joyce, always good fun, said, there’s no such thing as too much eye candy . The saucy old broad.
    Her smile faded. She missed her, having not been back to Boston to see her friends and family for a while. She should ask Joyce to come and visit her in New York—she hadn’t traveled much, and would love the hustle and bustle, the endless opportunities to people watch. Maybe Melodie and the rest of the family could buy her a ticket for her birthday. She’d have to give it some thought. It sure would be nice to see a familiar face, other than via Skype.
    Someone pressed the buzzer to her apartment and she sighed again. Probably a delivery driver trying to get into the building.
    Taking her time getting to the intercom, she hoped whoever it was would go away. No such luck—the buzzer squawked again. She inhaled deeply, trying to rein in her annoyance and avoid being rude or abrupt.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi,” a male voice said. “Are you Melodie? Melodie Carr?”
    “I am.” A caller looking for her? Had she ordered something and forgotten about it? “Who’s calling?”
    “It’s Patrick,” the voice replied. “Patrick Brogan.”
    “Patrick….” Speechless, she laid a hand on the wall to steady herself as the bottom dropped out of her world. Evidently, running to New York—albeit under the pretense of a good career move—hadn’t been enough. Her past still followed her, still tried to flood her with reminders of what she’d lost.
    “Melodie?”
    Damn, the man’s persistent . She never should have admitted her identity before asking his. She could have told him he’d gotten the wrong place and sent him away.
    Not that it would have worked. There was only one place he could have gotten her address—her parents. And no way she’d get away with giving them a fake one. Plus, she did happen to be one of the few residents who had a name next to her button on the panel outside.
    “Are you there?”
    Damn her parents! Damn her late fiancé’s brother. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?
    A moment ago she’d been craving a familiar face, and now one waited to get in. She should let him come up—it wasn’t his fault his brother had died, after all. He’d been as devastated as her.
    She pressed the button. “Come on up.”
    Peering in the large mirror over the fireplace, she immediately regretted it. She’d never intended to go out or see anyone that day, and wore scruffy tracksuit pants and an old T-shirt. No makeup, and her hair…well, it resembled a bird’s nest. Groaning, she resigned herself to the fact it would take more than smoothing her hair to appear presentable. But she couldn’t do anything about it. Patrick would be there any minute.
    She switched on the coffeemaker. Maybe she could distract him from her disheveled state with caffeine. It couldn’t hurt to try.
    A few seconds later, a knock sounded. Hurrying over to the door—refusing to peek into the mirror again, there was no sense in scaring herself