Until We Say Goodbye

by Jane Drager

  Jan stepped forward. “Actually, Lauren has a Master’s in Education. She’s smart.”

  Smiling, Lauren rolled her eyes. “Not that smart. Look, I’m sure you two want to visit. I’m late for an afternoon class.” She grabbed a green apple from the fruit basket on the counter. “I’ll be late tonight, Jan, probably after six. Nice to meet you, Mr. Lambert.”

  Deems watched her from the kitchen entrance as she slipped on a jacket, hoisted a backpack onto one shoulder, and headed for the front door.

  She paused to meet his gaze, hand on the doorknob, and a curl of a smile touched her lips that immediately radiated from her eyes. She lifted a hand for a small wave and left, closing the door behind her.

  Suddenly, the apartment felt empty. Lauren had a presence about her that he couldn’t understand. Maturity certainly. A woman who understood her place in the world. Definitely a far cry from any of Jan’s regular friends. He reclaimed his seat at the table while Jan poured two cups of coffee. “She seems nice.”

  “I like her.” Jan extracted the milk carton from the refrigerator and placed the container in front of him.

  He pointed to the fruit basket full of red, green, and yellow apples. “Aren’t the green ones bitter?”

  “Yes, the Granny Smith. Great for cooking, but Lauren likes them as is. The more bitter, the better, she says. I tried one.” Crinkling her nose, she shuddered. “Real pucker power.”

  Deems poured a hefty amount of milk into his cup until the coffee changed to pale beige, the way he drank it. He wasn’t sure he should ask the question, but he had to know. “Is Lauren seeing anyone?”

  Jan sat and wrapped her hands around the mug. “No, and she won’t either. Her ex-fiancé burned her big time. She won’t even look at another man.”

  But she looked at me. For some reason, that minor fact caused his chest to swell. Hiding a grin, he sipped his coffee. “She’s very beautiful.”

  “She’s got the looks to stop a freight train. Guys are constantly asking about her.” She spooned three teaspoons of sugar into her coffee and stirred. “I wish I was that pretty.”

  How many men? Two? Twenty? Far too much testosterone floated around a college campus, and Jan’s apartment was definitely too close. With little else to say except squelch his annoyance, he reached across the table and squeezed Jan’s hand. “You’re pretty in your own way. Like me. I’m not one of those drop-dead gorgeous guys that women chase.” He released her hand to grab another cookie with thoughts drifting to other possible delights on Lauren’s bake list.

  “If women knew more about you, they’d chase.”

  “For all the wrong reasons.” He shoved the entire cookie into his mouth and crunched on the buttery sweet goodness.

  She wagged a finger. “Not necessarily, big brother. You’re always a little too shy around women. I don’t understand how you can be such a successful businessman and yet get all tongue-tied around women.”

  Chewing before he choked to death, he swallowed his mouthful with a sip of coffee. “Not tongue-tied, Jan. Cautious. You know how some women play games.”

  “All right, cautious.” She dipped the edge of a cookie into her coffee. “How often do you meet a woman with a face like hers?”

  Beautiful women were a dime a dozen in New York. Most were frivolous and wandered from day to day without a real purpose to their lives. Far too many hoped to attract the attention of a rich man, and Manhattan had quite a few wealthy men, many already married.

  Deems grabbed another cookie. Dear Lord, how many had he eaten? Maybe he should stop before strangling his waistline. “What happened with Lauren’s fiancé?”

  Staring into her cup, Jan stirred her coffee. “She’ll tell you in her own time—provided you come around more often.” Glancing up, she grinned, her hazel eyes twinkling. “I assume you’re interested?”

  More than interested. Wild horses couldn’t keep him away after one glimpse of Jan’s extremely attractive roommate.

  Chapter Two

  With a heavy sigh, Lauren Howell stared at the staircase leading to her third floor apartment. On days like this, she really wished for an elevator. Even a bucket on a rope would do. Anything to hoist her up to avoid the long climb. Either that or take a nap here on the first floor with King George. The lion. At the memory of Deems’ words, she chuckled and plodded up the stairs.

  Although a week and a half had passed since she met Jan’s brother, she squelched her curiosity by concentrating on her purpose in New York. Yes, she’d experienced an electrical jolt when their hands touched, but so what? She had absolutely no interest in dating, no matter how attractive the prospect.

  Right now, her objective was to climb these stairs before collapsing in an exhausted heap. From seven this morning until six in the evening, she’d spent a long day in art class and arrived at the brownstone barely able to keep her eyes open. A full thirteen-hour session.

  Antonio scheduled a special day for the students, which included cutting, mounting, and soldering glass art too heavy to move. All six students participated, each working on a section before joining the pieces to complete a grandiose masterpiece that she swore could never fit anywhere. Then, as a team, they each lifted a corner for placement against the wall, being oh-so careful, inching their feet across the room, and hardly breathing. Naturally, the glass snapped straight down the middle and shattered onto the concrete floor. Disheartened, she stared at the shards, waiting for the colors to meld together like special effects in a movie.

  Antonio laughed so hard he almost tipped from his chair, all the while declaring the project as a valuable lesson learned. “Never rush the soldering,” he said. A mantra he repeated over and over. Obviously, someone hadn’t listened.

  She yawned as her foot touched the third floor landing only to discover the door to her apartment wide open. Male voices flowed from within, one angry and the others subdued. Her grip tightened on the handrail. Had something happened to Jan? Were they robbed?

  Heart thumping, she hurried to the doorway to see four men standing in the middle of the living room. Two were uniformed NYPD officers, the third, her landlord, Mr. O’Reilly, and the fourth, Deems Lambert, who looked red-faced and furious. Simultaneously, they turned toward her, as if some invisible force yanked on a string. She raised a brow. “What’s going on?”

  Mr. O’Reilly, with his gray, wispy hair standing straight up from the top of his head, approached first. “I’m sorry, Ms. Howell, but this man claims to be Ms. Lambert’s brother. I ain’t never seen him before, and since I’m no spring chicken to handle a guy this size, I called the cops. He demanded to be let into the apartment.”

  With a gaze cutting her in two, Deems stepped forward, his neck veins straining against his skin. “Where’s Jan?”

  Lauren jumped at his harsh tone. The man stood like a bull ready to charge with nostrils flaring and hands rolled into tight fists. She hadn’t seen a man this angry since her father burned the starter coil on his tractor. Sucking in a breath to steady her nerves, she turned to Mr. O’Reilly. “You could have called me.”

  O’Reilly shook his head. “He’s too belligerent.”

  A cop positioned himself between her and Deems. “Do you know this gentleman?”

  “Huh?” Despite Deems’ bull-in-a-china-shop look, he was still a handsome man, and she had to force away her gaze to focus on the officer. “Yes, he’s Jan’s brother.”

  Deems stepped around the cop. “Then, where the hell is she? I’ve been calling her all day with no answer.” Gaze narrowed, he pointed an accusing finger in her face. “Even your landlord said he hasn’t seen her. Why wasn’t she reported missing?”

  Fatigue swept through her body with her feet and back complaining the loudest. Could she help it if brother and sister rarely communicated? But she’d better say something before the man blew a gasket. Shaking her head, Lauren dropped her backpack onto the floor and faced Deems. “Because she’s not missing. She’s still in the Bahamas with Eric.”


  Squinting, Deems scowled. “Who’s Eric?”

  “Her boyfriend. Didn’t she tell you?”

  “Obviously not.” His jaw twitched, and he glanced from one man to the next until returning his gaze to her. “How long has she been going with him?”

  With a hand over her mouth, she stifled a yawn. “I don’t know. A couple of months maybe. You want me to go to the precinct for a lie-detector test?”

  Whoa! His head snapped so fast she swore a neck vertebrae cracked. Geez, mister, chill out.

  The officer, who had been standing between them, cleared his throat. “Is there any way you can reach Ms. Lambert to reassure her brother?”

  She checked her wristwatch. “She agreed to turn on her phone at eight every night. That was ten minutes ago. Let’s see if she remembered.” Hell, I wouldn’t. She slipped her cell phone from her jeans back pocket and typed a text message. Call me. Urgent. She showed the officer before hitting the Send button.

  A long two minutes later, her phone rang. “Will you please talk to your brother before he has me thrown in jail? No, no, he’ll explain.” She thrust the phone into Deems’ face.

  He promptly responded with an annoyed glare.

  Of all days for such excitement. Any other evening would be run-of-the-mill boring, but after hours on her feet, she had a kink in her neck, a cramp in her right calf, and the beginnings of a headache. She needed food and quiet. Besides, regardless what Deems Lambert believed, Jan was old enough to do as she pleased. Granted at age twenty-two, she wasn’t the most mature woman to deal with a man like Eric, but Lauren had no business to judge.

  For her, Jan had turned into a godsend. Money was tight, and Lauren desperately needed an inexpensive place to live. Rooming with Jan proved a hell of a lot cheaper than all other options. Food and lodging cost far too much in Manhattan, and with transportation factored in, Lauren barely had two dimes to rub together. Consequently, she walked the fifteen blocks to her class every day and only occasionally rode the subway home. Like tonight when she’d been too exhausted to walk.

  While conversing with his sister, Deems paced, yelling mostly, his aggravation at her unannounced trip apparent.

  Mr. O’Reilly raised both hands in the air and left while the two officers waited by the front door, conversing between themselves.

  Lauren dropped onto the sofa and rubbed her eyes. The whole scene was comical in a way, reminiscent of a sit-com where big brother overreacted to his little sister’s lah-de-dah ways. Deems probably thought Lauren had done away with her roommate to have the apartment all to herself. Little did he know she’d rather stay in a flophouse than pay the full exorbitant rent.

  Finished with his tirade, Deems disconnected and walked to the officers.

  Her gaze followed him. He wasn’t a drop-dead gorgeous guy but definitely an attractive one who wore a business suit like he popped out of his mother’s womb fully dressed. Dark brown hair fell loosely over one brow, partially hiding the pale brown hue of his eyes. He was a lot older than Jan, maybe closer to Lauren’s age of twenty-nine, and looked every bit the successful businessman with a slim build on a tall frame. No wedding band but that meant nothing in this day and age. Still, his sheer physical presence was impressive enough for anyone to take notice. Including her.

  Deems shook hands with the officers.

  One cop turned to her with a semi-salute. “Shall we escort him to the street, ma’am?”

  She would like nothing more than to be left alone, but Deems had such a deep grimace on his face, she almost felt sorry for him. “I think he’s tamed, officer. Thank you.”

  They tipped their hats and left.

  Deems closed the door and shot her a quick glance. “I overreacted.” After crossing the room, he handed her the phone.

  “I’ll say.” She took the phone, and their fingers brushed ever so slightly. Such a simple touch caused another spark that bolted straight to her core. Her breath hitched, but she avoided eye contract. More than likely, the sudden arc could be attributed to fatigue or, better yet, a static shock from the rug. She slid the phone onto the end table. “You caused quite a ruckus, Mr. Lambert.”

  The grimace intensified. “I should apologize to Mr. O’Reilly. I scared him—and you. Jan never mentioned a boyfriend.” He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets and tilted his head. “Is he a decent fellow?”

  Leaning back, she shrugged and rested her head on the sofa’s cushion. “He’s not a man I’d date.” She wasn’t about to influence his opinion merely because she detested the air Eric Drummer breathed. Jan’s boyfriend had a way of raising the hairs on the back of Lauren’s neck, and she avoided him as much as possible. “For the record, your sister went on a spur-of-the-moment trip. Eric called, said he had two tickets to the Bahamas, and off they went. I’m hoping Jan hasn’t put the rest of the trip on her charge card.” Oops. She inwardly winced. So much for not influencing his opinion.

  With a frown, Deems jingled the change in his pocket and walked around to the front of the sofa to face her, his gaze guarded. “She’s allowed to charge anything she wants.”

  “Good, because I didn’t mean to let that slip.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Sometimes, I worry about her. Jan’s a grown woman if, however, a tad naïve.”

  “She’s never been anything but naïve. That’s why I panicked.” His gaze relaxed, and a smile spread onto his lips. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  His warm smile nearly liquefied her bones. Even without showing teeth, he conveyed a sexiness she hadn’t seen in a long time. I must be too tired. Why else would she want to wrestle him to the floor and have her way with him? She stifled a yawn. “My time in New York is almost over, Mr. Lambert. Jan will be on her own soon enough.”

  His smile disappeared.

  Hopefully, he hadn’t expected her to be Jan’s chaperone. Lauren Howell had her own problems, and the majority involved money. She met his gaze. “She’ll be fine, Mr. Lambert.”

  He grunted then shifted his gaze from one rock star poster to the next. “Jan and I were never close, Lauren. We have a ten-year spread between our ages, and I moved from Chicago to New York before she finished high school.” He turned from the posters and settled onto the other end of the sofa. “We had different mothers. Mine died when I was four.”

  That explained the age difference and dissimilar appearance. Jan had a washed-out look with her pale skin and light hair and compensated with flowery clothes. On the other hand, Deems had a deeper skin tone and dark hair. He also had height, which Jan desperately needed.

  Without lifting her head from the backrest, Lauren shifted on the seat to study him. The man definitely had exquisite taste in clothes. The charcoal gray suit fit his shoulders perfectly and tapered to his waist. His shoes were Italian, and a gold watch covered his left wrist. Whether he had money or not wasn’t her concern since many men—and women—pretended to be upper crust when, in fact, they scraped the bottom of a barrel and ate hot dogs every night. Her family was lower middle class and bursting with pride, and even though her Masters in Education raised her to a different level, she stood just as proud by her family’s side.

  Sleep crept over her. She should shoo him out since he picked the most inopportune time to rant and rave about his sister, but he had a nice voice, deep and masculine, the kind that gave a woman chills. Plus, he was easy on the eyes. He’d also filled the apartment with his musk scent. Nice. Enticing. Better than Eric’s eau de motor oil.

  “Is Jan serious with this guy?”

  Who? Blinking fast, she shook herself and met his gaze. “He’s all she talks about.”

  He unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned back, relaxing an arm on the sofa’s armrest. “Is Eric living here?”

  Her gaze snapped up to his face. She had been staring at the sparkling diamond embedded in his tie tack. “Not yet. I’d say the move’s inevitable. I’m praying she holds off inviting him until I’m gone.” She used both hands to stifle a yawn.

  He sat forw
ard and slapped his knees. “You’re tired. I should go.”

  Yes, he should but made no attempt to stand. He looked at her with a quizzical lift to his brow, as if he wanted permission to move.

  She inwardly smiled because she wasn’t about to dismiss him. Which surprised her. Fatigue had swept over her like a blanket, and all her limbs turned into lead. Yet, for the life of her, she refused to speak up. One word from her, and he’d be out the door, so why not say goodnight?

  Because she wanted a chance to talk with a man who had two feet firmly planted on the ground. Jan was okay for conversation, but she had the mentality of a high school senior, and Lauren passed that stage a long time ago. And of the five students in her art class, three were so friggin’ competitive, they created stressful sessions which she hurried to escape.

  Sitting forward, she gave Deems a slight smile. “Yes, I’m tired, Mr. Lambert, but I’m also hungry. Care for some leftover chicken casserole?” She stood, and he joined her. This time, she let her gaze linger on his face, at his square jaw with barely a hint of a stubble, on his full lips, and the trimmed sideburns near his ears. Definitely a man who took pride in his appearance.

  “Do I pass?”

  She jerked then widened her eyes. “Huh?” Oh, my God, I am blatantly staring! Heat rose into her cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  His gaze sparkled. “No problem. You gave me a chance to return the scrutiny.”

  Oh, hell, and she hadn’t noticed. With a wave, she gestured toward the kitchen. “Nothing fancy, Mr. Lambert. Just casserole and iced tea.”

  “That sounds perfect.” He walked behind her but stopped in the archway to the kitchen.