"What are you wearing?" she demanded. "Is that a star on your crotch? Oh, my God."
"Lucie designed them," Ian announced, doing what she supposed was his take on a model's strut. "I love them."
Oh, sure. Only a few minutes ago, he'd pasted Lucie to his front to block the view. Now he was modeling.
Steffi's eyes were wide with horror. "It's true. It must be. Only someone crazy enough to be in love with her would wear her bizarre underwear. What, is she drugging you?"
"Steffi?" a gruff voice broke in from the open doorway." I saw your car. Are you all right?"
"My dad is here?" Lucie groaned, dropping her head to her hands. "Oh, jeez. Who else?"
His younger daughter ran to him. "Daddy! It's terrible! My new brother-in-law is in love with Lucie. I saw it with my own eyes!"
It was playing out exactly as they'd planned, and yet somehow, her family still had the power to make her feel inadequate and pathetic. Maybe it would be a good start toward self-respect if she could manage to keep her clothes on around Ian. She swore under her breath.
Standing over her, Ian whispered, "It's okay. This is good. This is what we wanted."
But she begged to differ. "We wanted them to think we're in love, not that we're a couple of lusty lunatics."
"Same difference," Ian murmured.
"Sometimes you are such a guy, you know that?"
But Steffi wasn't finished. "Did you see, Daddy? He's wearing some of her designs—you know, those disgusting Panda Pants or whatever. What am I going to do? I can't be married to someone whose brother is in love with Lucie."
"It's obscene," her father growled. He shielded Steffi by pressing her face into his chest. "Lucie, can't you keep your boyfriend out of those underpants?"
Dryly, Lucie noted, "I could, but I don't think you'd like him out of those underpants any better than you like him in them."
"We can't help it if we're in love," Ian offered sweetly. He joined Lucie on the sofa and set an arm around her shoulders. And then he gave her a good lip-smacker of a kiss. "But I understand your concern, sir. She is your daughter. If you're thinking of asking what my intentions are, well, we have plans. Big plans. I don't want to say the m-word, but you catch my drift."
"M-word?" Lucie repeated.
"Marriage." He winked at her, squeezing her to cover the tiny squeal she made. But that was nothing compared to Steffi's reaction.
"Marriage?" she shrieked. "But then Lucie will be my sister-in-law!"
"She's already your half sister," Ian reminded her. "Anyway, before we get to the altar, Lucie's dream is to resurrect Pandora's—"
"Oh, no, you don't!" Don Webster shouted, his face reddening and his hands clenching into fists. "Not the damn underwear again. Give it up already. Lucie can't handle it."
The sparkle of good humor in Ian's eyes changed to steely determination. "I think she can," he said flatly.
"I love Pandora's Boxers. I also love a challenge. I've promised Lucie we will find a way to make her dream a reality." His narrow lips curved into a thin smile. "Whatever it takes."
"Now, now, let's not be hasty," her father blustered. "I'm sure we can work this out."
"Daddy!" Steffi protested. "I can't believe you're wasting your time with this. Who cares about the underpants? They're talking about getting married."
"Baby, this is important," her father argued.
"No, what I want is important. And I do not want Lucie as my sister-in-law!" She bolted out from under her father's arm and skated out the door on her cha-cha heels, not even bothering to wait for Kyle.
As her dad wheeled and ran after Steffi, Ian made frantic gestures at Kyle to go, too. "Be a puppy," he mouthed. "Follow her." As Kyle finally got the idea and took off in pursuit, Ian turned to Lucie. "See? It's working like a charm. Steffi's on the verge of dumping Kyle and your dad is warming up to a compromise on Pandora's Boxers."
"Don't count your chickens—" Lucie started, but then they heard a big thump and a screech from outside.
She ran to the window, where she saw the tail end of Steffi's red convertible speeding away down the lane. In her wake, their father was kneeling next to a prone body.
"Oh, my God! I think she hit Kyle!"
Ian ran outside in a flash, with Lucie on his heels.
"It wasn't her fault," Don Webster insisted. "She spun out and clipped him with her back fender when it swung around. She didn't see him, I'm sure."
But they had no time for that nonsense. As Ian bent down, Kyle made an inarticulate noise, a cry of pure agony. "Kyle?" Ian prompted. "Your eyes are open. Are you okay?"
"I think—I think maybe I broke my leg," Kyle mumbled, grinding his teeth, screwing up his face with pain. "Maybe both of them."
"Don't move," Ian ordered. He turned to Lucie. "Call 911. I think he needs an ambulance."
Lucie made a beeline for the phone. Behind her, she heard Ian say gently, "I was kidding when I told you to break both your legs, Ky. You do know that, right?"
* * *
Ian was still in a daze. His brother was in the hospital with a hairline fracture of his right fibula and a clean fracture of his left tibia—which basically meant two broken legs. On the bright side, he also got a get-out-of-your-honeymoon-free card.
Meanwhile, the Mackintosh parents and little sister were camped out in the waiting room, unwilling to leave until Kyle was assigned to a room. Lucie was there, too—she'd driven him—but she'd taken a chair by herself, over in the corner.
And then there was Steffi, his brand-new sister-in-law, the same one who'd run over his brother, weeping and moaning all over the place, acting like she was in the center of a Greek tragedy. Not that she'd wasted a minute blaming herself or even admitting what she'd done.
"Poor Kyle!" she wailed, leaving wet spots on the shoulder of Ian's dad's jacket. "This is so unfair. Now we'll never get to Hawaii."
"He'll be fine," Ian's father said in a soothing voice. "They're keeping him in the hospital for a few days, but he may even be able to come home on Thursday."
But Steffi kept sobbing and lamenting her fate, utterly inconsolable.
Ian knew what was coming. Any minute now, his mother was going to pat Steffi on the top of her sleek, dark head and suggest that she come home with them and stay as long as she liked, as long as Kyle was recuperating. The words were already forming on his meddling mom's lips.
He paced over to the corner where Lucie sat.
"Okay," he said in an undertone, "now I'm definitely getting my brother out of this marriage. Throwing the wedding gifts out the window was one thing. But mowing him down with her car is going too far."
"Poor Kyle," Lucie murmured. She looked about as depressed as he felt. "Do you think it's our fault? We told him to go after her and act like a puppy. But who knew she'd really run him down like a dog?"
"It's not our fault." He stood up, jamming his hands in his pockets. "But I'm more committed than ever to helping him."
"It's not going to be easy." Lucie inclined her head in the direction of his parents. "I just heard your mom ask if Steffi wanted to move in for the duration. Now that she's found a way to worm her way inside the mother ship, I don't think even flagrant hanky-panky from us is going to do it."
"Damn it. When she bolted out of there, I thought we had her." Ian sat back down. "What was it she said? 'I can't be married to someone whose brother is in love with Lucie.' I really thought she was taking the bait."
Lucie rubbed her eyes. "Yeah, well, trust Steffi to use even a car accident to her own advantage."
"She and your father insist it wasn't her fault, that Kyle walked into the back of her car."
"Yeah, and her cashmere sweater cut itself to ribbons in ninth grade."
He shook his head. "There's got to be something we can do."
"There is." Edging over in the uncomfortable plastic seat, Lucie looked at him with warmth and sympathy in her eyes. "Listen, Ian, I've been thinking. We were fooling around, playing games, having f
un. But it's gone far enough. Let's end it."
He felt a pang that had nothing to do with Steffi or Kyle. Let's end it. It sounded so cold. And the funny thing was, he didn't want it to end. "And let Steffi win? You've got to be kidding."
"She wouldn't have to win. We both know that if Kyle were to file for divorce immediately, Steffi would automatically look to my dad to tell her what to do," she said softly.
"And he's not going to back down," Ian returned. "I already know that. What I didn't tell you…" He glanced at her, wondering whether it was wise to share this much. Aw, hell, she already knew most of it, anyway. "Lucie, Kyle and I stand to make twenty million dollars off our m-tosh.com. If your father gets wind of that, there will never be a divorce."
"Twenty million? That makes this an even better idea." She glanced down at her clasped hands. "I need to do this now, before he finds out about the twenty million dollars."
"Do what?"
"You know how threatened he was by what you said, about helping me with Pandora's Boxers. So I can tell him that I'm willing to forget about Pandora's Boxers forever if he can convince Steffi to give Kyle a quick and easy annulment. If I fold, he brokers an annulment. I think he might do it."
"No."
"But there's a chance," Lucie tried. "It would be over and Kyle would be free."
But Ian was adamant. He was not going to trade his brother's freedom for Lucie's dream. Once again rising to his feet, he said firmly, "We'll do both, just the way we agreed. Both."
"But, Ian—"
"No. Not even an issue, Lucie."
"Ian, dear, I hate to interrupt…" His mother stood at his shoulder.
"What is it?"
"They've transferred Kyle to a room, so we're going to go see him right now. And then we'll get out of here and let him get some sleep." She stretched up to kiss her older son on the cheek. "Would you and Lucie like to come back to the house, too?"
"No, Mom, that's okay." He couldn't see bringing Lucie to any house with Steffi in it.
But his mother persisted. "I know you leased out the house that you and Kyle were sharing before he got married, so you've been at loose ends, dear. And it's been very sweet of Lucie to put you up for a few days. But we'd love to have you come home." She paused, and he could swear he saw a devious light in her eye. What was she up to? "Steffi's coming, and since Lucie is her sister…"
"Half sister," Lucie said woodenly.
"Maybe it would be good for Steffi to have family there," his mom added.
Or maybe it would kick Steffi right over the edge if Lucie horned in, sharing the bosom of Barbie's Dream Family…
"I think we'd like that, Mom. I think Lucie and I would like that very much."
"Excuse me?" Lucie sat up straighter. "What would we like?"
"My mother has just invited us home for a few days, darling. You and I." He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "Family dinners with Mom, Dad, my sister, Jessica. And, of course, Steffi."
"Family dinners? With Steffi? And me?" Her eyes reflected horror. "Are you sure about this?"
He didn't hold back his wicked grin. "I think it could be just the ticket."
* * *
The Macintosh mansion was quite spectacular, in a hunting lodge sort of way, all dark paneling and impossibly high ceilings, decorated with needlepoint pillows and tapestry chairs and fresh flowers on exquisite antique tables. When Myra Mackintosh led the way up the stairs and then down a long hall to the guest-wing, Lucie had a chance to see more of the posh, elegant house.
"I feel terrible you're toting your own bags, Lucie, dear," Mrs. Mackintosh offered. "But we only keep a few day servants, and no one stays this late. George has already turned in, I'm afraid, and I couldn't find Ian. So I do apologize."
"It's no problem. Really." She hoisted one bag over her shoulder and kept a firm grip on the other one, which held a small portable sewing machine and a few garments she was working on. She didn't want to be bored while she was here, no matter how long the visit lasted.
Craning her neck, she checked the portraits on the walls for any family resemblance, but didn't catch any. They passed several doors in the corridor, but it was all quiet and still, as if none of the rooms were occupied. Finally, Myra Mackintosh pushed open the last door.
"This is my favorite guest room, Lucie, dear. I had it made up for you."
Lucie peeked inside. Wow. The room was lovely, with its gleaming mahogany four-poster dripping in luxurious lemon-colored linens, a cozy cushioned window seat, and a bouquet of daisies and yellow roses in a cut-glass vase on the polished secretary.
It was perfect. Except for the fact that Ian's clothes were already strewn across the bed.
With her suitcases in her hands, Lucie stepped back. They had discussed this before she went back to the cottage to pack. She'd told him that this new temporary living arrangement wouldn't change anything with regard to their hands-off policy, and in fact, it might make things easier. After all, she really doubted that either of them would be in the mood for funny stuff with his parents and his little sister hanging around.
Of course, he hadn't said a peep about the fact that none of them would even be in the same wing.
Still, she had no intention of sharing a bedroom or a bed with Ian. There was no point in ignoring the obvious—thirty seconds in that four-poster and the two of them would be all over each other, good intentions, linens and pillows thrown to the four winds.
She averted her eyes. "Mrs. Mackintosh—"
"Please, dear, call me Myra."
"Myra, thank you so much for your wonderful hospitality," Lucie said delicately. "This is a beautiful room. Really. But out of respect for you and your husband, I think I should have a separate room."
"Don't be silly, Lucie," she pooh-poohed, waving a hand in the air. "George and I aren't that old, you know. And I would never keep you and Ian apart when you're so clearly champing at the bit to be together. I'm just thrilled to death you're here."
As she spoke, Ian emerged from the attached powder room, whistling as he toweled off his face.
"Ian," Lucie began in an ominous tone. "Didn't we discuss this, darling? Didn't we decide we should have separate rooms?"
He shrugged carelessly, the traitor. "Mom thought that was denying the obvious." He plunked himself down on the bed. "That we're in love, I mean."
"Ian—"
"Now don't argue with me, Luce," Mrs. Mackintosh said coyly. She backed out of the room, catching the door and starting to close it. "You two settle in and get a good night's sleep. Everyone is going to be running back and forth to the hospital tomorrow, so don't expect to see too much of us. Oh, and Thursday night, Cook's planning a special dinner for us to celebrate—we hope—Kyle getting released, as well as having both of our daughters-in-law under our roof. So plan on that, all right?" And then she was gone.
"Both of our daughters-in-law?" Lucie echoed, dropping her luggage right where she stood. "Ian, this is terrible! She's acting like we're already married, and we're not even engaged. We don't even like each other! How can you do this to your mother?"
He patted the bed, indicating she should join him. "Take it easy, Lu. I don't know what she really thinks or whether she's just messing with our heads. My mother is a complicated woman. Come on over here. Relax."
He'd just called her Lu. That was a new one. She'd never had a nickname in her entire life. Lucie frowned. "She referred to me as her daughter-in-law, Ian. I don't want her thinking that's going to happen. It's not fair to play games with such a nice, trusting person."
"Oh, she'll get over it." He lay back, propping his head on his arms. "I mean, we're not getting married, we're not even really a couple, so she'll have to get over it, won't she?"
"That's what I mean! How can you do that to your own mother?"
"Believe me, I understand her better than you do." Sitting up halfway, he sent her a cynical glance. "She's pleased as punch that I've brought a woman home. She gave up on me ages ago, yet here
I am with a reasonable prospect. So she's trying to make sure you don't escape."
"Don't be ridiculous." But Lucie perched on the edge of the bed. "I suppose I should be flattered she thinks I'm a reasonable prospect for her son. But I don't know what to think." As Ian slipped an arm around her, pulling her onto the four-poster with him, she whispered, "Except that this is a terrible idea."
"Oh, come on." His lips found her neck and then her ear. "Do you want my parents and Steffi to think we're not for real?"
"No…"
"Exactly. And if we make a big deal of separate bedrooms, what are they going to think?" He nibbled on her earlobe, brushing kisses inside her collar, loosening the ribbon in her hair.
"But we had a pact," she tried, sinking further into the pillows.
Now his warm, wet mouth moved over her chin, closer to her lips, not quite kissing her the way she craved to be kissed. "We can get back to the pact later," he murmured, sliding his tongue over her bottom lip, making her shiver, angling his body over hers.
"Oh, Ian…" But her hands reached for him, too, encircling his neck, urging him closer.
His mouth covered hers, his tongue plunged inside, and he kissed her savagely, all restless male energy and overwhelming force. There was no denying him, not that she wanted to. As usual, her brain abandoned her and her wildest impulses took over when Ian touched her. She plastered herself against him, she met him thrust for thrust, and she moaned into that unrelenting kiss. They spun over completely, and then again, knocking his clothes off the bed, smashing into each other and the headboard in their reckless haste.
Finally, when they were both panting for breath, Ian pulled back.
As she gulped air back into her lungs, Lucie let her head fall flat against the pillow. How the heck did that happen? How did she let it happen, again and again? "Why do I turn into oatmeal every time you touch me?"
But he whispered, "You don't taste like oatmeal. More like…" He dipped down and licked her collarbone. "More like Paris." He licked her again, only the slope of her neck this time. When he spoke, his words were soft, indistinct, and hypnotic. "Like a misty night in Paris. There we are, you and I, sharing a glass of excellent champagne in the moonlight, on our balcony at the Georges V, and then we slip inside…" his lips brushed hers, ever so gently "…and make love every way we know how, until we pass out from sheer exhaustion."
JUST A LITTLE FLING Page 11
